4 


ALVMNVS  BOOK  FVND 


THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 


THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 


BT 

FRANK  R.  STOCKTON 


NEW  YORK 
jCHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1912 


COFVRIGHT,  1898,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


CONTENTS 


OHAPTIB  PASS 

I.  Dr.  Tolbridge  .       .       .       .       ,       ,       ,  1 

II.    Miss  Panney 11 

m.    Brother  and  Sister 20 

rV.    The  Home 27 

V.    Panneyopathy 42 

VI.  Mrs.  Tolbridge's  Callers      ....  52 

VII.  Dora  Bannister  takes  Time  and  a  Mare 

BY  the  Forelock 58 

Vin.  Mrs.  Tolbridge's  Report  is  not  accepted  73 

IX,  John  Wesley  and  Lorenzo  Dow  at  Lunch- 
eon   .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .84 

X.  A  Silk  Gown  and  a  Bottle  ....  95 

XI.  Two  Girls  and  a  Calf  .        .        .        .        .103 

XII.  To   EAT   WITH   THE   FAMILY           ....  113 

XIII.  Dora's  New  Mind 123 

XIV.  Good-night 130 

XV.  Miss    Panney    is    aroused    to    help   and 

hinder 137 

XVI.  "Keep  her  to  help  you"       •       •       •       .  145 


/f  n  -#  ir\  —  — 


VI  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAOB 

XVII.  Judith  Pacewalk's  Teabbrry  Gown      .  162 

XVIII.    Blarney  Fluff 161 

XIX.  Miss  Panney  is  "  took  sudden  "      .        .  172 

XX.  The  Teaberry  Gown  is  too  Large        .  176 

XXI.  The  Dranes  and  their  Quarters  .        .  187 

XXII.    A  Trespass 197 

XXin.  The  Haverley  Finances  and  Mrs.  Rob- 
inson    206 

XXIV.  The  Doctor's  Mission       .        .        .        .215 

XXV.  Bombshells  and  Bromide         .        ,        .  222 

XXVI.  Dora  comes  and  sees        ....  232 

XXVII.  "It  couldn't  be  better  than  that"    .  241 

XXVni.  The  Game  is  called          .        .        .        .252 

XXIX.  Hypothesis  and  Innuendo        .        .        .  263 

XXX.  A  Confidential  Announcement      .        .  272 

XXXI.  The  Teaberry  Gown  is  donned      .        .  284 

XXXII.  Miss   Panney  feels   she  must  change 

her  Plans 294 

XXXIII.  La  Fleur  looks  Futureward         .        .  305 

XXXIV.  A  Plan  which   seems   to   suit   Every- 

body     314 

XXXV.  Miss  Panney  has  Teeth  enough  left 

TO  bite  with 322 

XXXVI.  A  Cry  from  the  Sea        .        .        .        .330 

XXXVn.  La  Fleur  assumes  Responsibilities      .  338 


CONTENTS 


Vll 


CHAPTBB 

XXXVin.  Cicely  reads  by  Moonlight    . 

XXXIX.  Undisturbed  Lettuce 

XL.  Angry  Waves     .... 

XLL  Panneyopathy  and  the  Ash-hole 

XLII.  An  Interviewer 

XLin.  The  Siren  and  the  Iron  . 

XLIV.  La  Fleur's  Soul  revels,  and  Miss  Pan- 

NBY  PBEPABES   TO  MAKE  A  FiRE      . 


PAOX 

349 
356 
863 
374 
384 
391 


THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 


CHAPTER  I 

DR.    TOLBRIDGB 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  a  March  afternoon  when 
Dr.  Tolbridge,  giving  his  horse  and  buggy  into  the 
charge  of  his  stable  boy,  entered  the  warm  hall  of  his 
house.  His  wife  was  delighted  to  see  him;  he  had  not 
been  at  home  since  noon  of  the  preceding  day. 

"  Yes, "  said  he,  as  he  took  off  his  gloves  and  overcoat, 
"  the  Pardell  boy  is  better,  but  I  found  him  in  a  desperate 
condition." 

"I  knew  that,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "when  you  told 
me  in  your  note  that  you  would  be  obliged  to  stay  with 
him  all  night." 

The  doctor  now  walked  into  his  study,  changed  his 
overcoat  for  a  well-worn  smoking-jacket,  and  seated 
himself  in  an  easy  chair  before  the  fire.  His  wife  sat 
by  him. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  her  inquiries, 
"  but  I  do  not  want  anything  to  eat.  After  I  had  gone 
my  round  this  morning  I  went  back  to  the  Pardells,  and 
had  my  dinner  there.     The  boy  is  doing  very  well.     No, 

B  1 


3  THE  CreL  AT  COBHURST 

I  was  not  up  all  night.  I  had  some  hours'  sleep  on  the 
big  sofa." 

"Which  doesn't  count  for  much,"  said  his  wife. 

"It  counts  for  some  hours,"  he  replied,  "and  Mrs. 
Pardell  did  not  sleep  at  all." 

Dr.  Tolbridge,  a  man  of  moderate  height,  and  com- 
pactly built,  with  some  touches  of  gray  in  his  full,  short 
beard,  and  all  the  light  of  youth  in  his  blue  eyes,  had 
been  for  years  the  leading  physician  in  and  about  Thor- 
bury.  He  lived  on  the  outskirts  of  the  little  town,  but 
the  lines  of  his  practice  extended  in  every  direction  into 
the  surrounding  country. 

The  doctor's  wife  was  younger  than  he  was ;  she  had  a 
high  opinion  of  him,  and  had  learned  to  diagnose  him, 
mentally,  morally,  and  physically,  with  considerable 
correctness.  It  may  be  asserted,  in  fact,  that  the  doctor 
seldom  made  a  diagnosis  of  a  patient  as  exact  as  those 
she  made  of  him.  But  then  it  must  be  remembered  that 
she  had  only  one  person  to  exert  her  skill  upon,  while 
he  had  many. 

The  Tolbridge  house  was  one  of  the  best  in  the  town, 
but  the  family  was  small.  There  was  but  one  child,  a 
boy  of  fourteen,  who  was  now  away  at  school.  The 
doctor  had  readjusted  the  logs  upon  the  andirons,  and 
was  just  putting  the  tongs  in  their  place  when  a  maid- 
servant came  in. 

"There's  a  boy  here,  sir,"  she  said,  "from  Miss 
Panney.     She's  sent  for  you  in  a  hurry." 

In  the  same  instant  the  doctor  and  his  wife  turned  in 
their  chairs  and  fixed  their  eyes  upon  the  servant,  but 


DR.  TOLBRIDQB  8' 

there  was  nothing  remarkable  about  her;  she  had  de- 
livered her  message  and  stood  waiting.  The  doctor's 
fists  were  clenched  and  there  was  a  glitter  in  his  eye. 
He  seemed  on  the  point  of  saying  something  in  a 
loud  voice,  but  he  changed  his  mind,  and  quietly 
said,  "Tell  the  boy  to  come  here,"  and  turned  back 
to  the  fire.  Then,  when  the  girl  had  gone,  he  struck 
his  fist  upon  his  knee  and  ejaculated,  "Confound  Miss 
Panney ! " 

"Harry! "  exclaimed  his  wife,  "you  should  not  speak 
of  your  patients  in  that  way,  but  I  agree  with  you  per- 
fectly;  "  and  then,  addressing  the  boy,  who  had  just  en- 
tered, and  who  stood  by  the  door,  "  Do  you  mean  to  say 
that  there  is  anything  serious  the  matter  with  Miss 
Panney  ? "  she  said  severely.  "  Does  she  really  want 
to  see  the  doctor  immediately  ?  " 

"That's  what  they  told  me,  ma'am,"  said  the  boy, 
looking  about  him  at  the  books  and  the  furniture. 
"  They  told  me  that  she  was  took  bad,  and  that  I  must 
come  here  first  to  tell  the  doctor  to  come  right  away,  and 
if  he  wasn't  at  home  to  leave  that  message." 

"  How  did  you  come  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Tolbridge  ;  "  on 
horseback  ?  " 

"No,  ma'am  J  with  a  wagon." 

"  You  could  have  come  a  great  deal  quicker  without 
the  wagon,"  said  she. 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  then  I've  got  to  stop  at  the  store  going 
back." 

"That  will  do,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge;  "you  can  go  now 
and  attend  to  your  other  business." 


4  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

The  doctor  was  quietly  looking  into  the  fire,  and  as 
his  wife  turned  to  him  he  gave  a  little  snort. 

"I  was  just  beginning  to  get  up  enough  energy,"  he 
remarked,  "to  think  of  putting  on  my  slippers." 

"Well,  put  them  on,"  said  she,  in  a  very  decided  tone. 

"No,"  replied  the  doctor,  "that  will  not  do;  of  course 
I  must  go  to  her." 

"You  mustn't  do  anything  of  the  kind!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Tolbridge,  her  eyes  sparkling.  "  How  many  times 
by  night  and  by  day  has  that  woman  called  you  away  on 
a  fool's  errand?  It  is  likely  as  not  that  there  is  nothing 
more  the  matter  with 'her  than  there  is  with  me.  She 
has  no  right  to  worry  the  life  out  of  you  in  this  way. 
She  ought  to  have  gone  to  heaven  long  ago." 

"  You  shouldn't  talk  of  my  patients  in  that  way, 
Kitty,"  said  the  doctor;  "and  in  the  opinion  of  a  good 
many  of  her  neighbors  the  old  lady  is  not  bound  for 
heaven." 

"  I  don't  care  where  she  is  going,  but  one  thing  is  cer- 
tain :  you  are  not  going  to  her  this  afternoon.  You  are 
not  fit  for  it." 

"You  must  remember,  Kitty,"  said  the  doctor,  "that 
Miss  Panney  is  an  old  lady,  and  though  she  may  sound 
many  a  false  alarm,  the  true  alarm  is  to  be  expected, 
and  I  would  much  prefer  to  go  by  daylight  than  to  wait 
until  after  supper.  The  roads  are  bad,  the  air  is  raw, 
and  she  would  keep  me  nobody  knows  how  late.  I 
want  to  go  to  bed  early  to-night." 

"And  that  is  what  you  are  going'  to  do,"  said  Mrs. 
Tolbridge. 


DR.   TOLBRIDGB  6 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly.  "Harry,"  said  she, 
"you  have  been  up  nearly  all  night.  You  have  been 
working  the  greater  part  of  this  day,  and  I  do  not  intend 
to  let  you  drive  three  miles  to  be  nearly  talked  to  death 
by  Racilia  Panney.  No,  you  needn't  shake  your  head 
in  that  way;  she  is  not  to  be  neglected.  I  shall  go 
myself  and  see  what  is  the  matter  with  her,  and  if  it  is 
really  anything  serious,  I  can  then  let  you  know.  I  do 
not  believe  she  would  have  sent  for  you  at  all,  if  she 
had  not  known  the  wagon  was  going  to  town.'' 

"But,  my  dear,"  said  the  doctor,  "you  cannot  —  " 

"Yes,  I  can,"  interrupted  his  wife.  "I  want  some 
fresh  air  and  shall  enjoy  the  drive,  and  Buckskin  has 
done  nothing  for  two  days.  I  shall  take  the  cart,  Tom 
can  get  up  behind,  and  I  can  go  there  in  less  than  half 
an  hour." 

"But  if  there  really  is  anything  the  matter  — "  said 
the  doctor. 

"It's  just  as  likely  as  not,"  interrupted  his  wife, 
"  that  what  she  wants  is  somebody  to  talk  to,  and  that 
a  minister  or  a  lawyer  or  a  stranger  from  foreign  parts 
would  do  just  as  well  as  you.  And  now  put  on  your 
slippers,  push  the  sofa  up  to  the  fire,  and  take  your  nap, 
and  I'll  go  and  see  how  the  case  really  stands." 

The  doctor  smiled.  "I  have  no  more  to  say,"  said  he. 
"  There  are  angels  who  bless  us  by  coming,  and  there  are 
angels  who  bless  us  by  going.  You  belong  to  both 
classes.     But  don't  stay  too  long." 

"  In  any  case  I  shall  be  back  before  dark, "  she  said, 
and  with  a  kiss  on  his  forehead  she  left  him.. 


6  THE   GIRL   AT   COBHURST 

Dr.  Tolbridge  looked  into  the  fire  and  considered. 

"  Ought  I  to  let  her  go  ? "  he  asked  himself.  This 
question,  mingled  with  various  thoughts  and  recollec- 
tions of  former  experiences  with  Miss  Panney,  occupied 
the  doctor's  mind  until  he  heard  the  swift  rolling  of  the 
dog-cart  wheels  as  they  passed  his  window.  Then  he 
arose,  put  on  his  slippers,  drew  up  the  soft  cushioned 
sofa,  and  lay  down  for  a  nap. 

In  about  half  an  hour  he  was  aroused  by  the  announce- 
ment that  Miss  Bannister  had  called  to  see  him. 

Long  practice  in  that  sort  of  thing  made  him  wake 
in  an  instant,  and  the  young  lady  who  was  ushered  into 
the  study  had  no  idea  that  she  had  disturbed  the  nap  of 
a  tired  man.  She  was  a  very  pretty  girl,  handsomely 
dressed;  she  had  large  blue  eyes,  and  a  very  gentle  and 
sweet  expression,  tinged,  however,  by  an  anxious 
sadness. 

"  Who  is  sick.  Miss  Dora  ?  "  asked  the  doctor,  quickly, 
as  he  shook  hands  with  her. 

She  did  not  seem  to  understand  him.  "Nobody,"  she 
said.     "That  is,  I  have  come  to  see  you  about  myself." 

"Oh,"  said  he,  "pray  take  a  seat.  I  imagined  from 
your  face,"  he  continued,  with  a  smile,  "that  some  one 
of  your  family  was  in  desperate  need  of  a  doctor." 

"No,"  said  she,  "it  is  I.  For  a  long  time  I  have 
thought  of  consulting  you,  and  to-day  I  felt  I  must 
come." 

"And  what  is  the  matter  ?"  he  asked. 

"Doctor,"  said  she,  a  tear  forcing  itself  into  each  of 
her  beautiful  eyes,  "I  believe  I  am  losing  my  mind," 


DR.   TOLBRIDGB  7 

"Indeed,"  said  the  doctor j  "and  how  is  your  general 
health?" 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  answered  Miss  Dora.  "I  do 
not  think  there  is  the  least  thing  the  matter  with  me 
that  way.  It  is  all  my  mind.  It  has  been  failing  me 
for  a  good  while." 

"  How  ?  "  he  asked.     "  What  are  the  symptoms  ?  " 

"Oh,  there  are  ever  so  many  of  them,"  she  said;  "I 
can't  think  of  them  all.  I  have  lost  all  interest  in 
everything  in  this  world.  You  remember  how  much 
interest  I  used  to  take  in  things  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  do,"  said  he. 

"The  world  is  getting  to  be  all  a  blank  to  me,"  she 
said;  "everything  is  blank." 

"  Your  meals  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No,"  she  said.     "Of  course  I  must  eat  to  live." 

"And  sleep?" 

"Oh,  I  sleep  well  enough.  Indeed,  I  wish  I  could 
sleep  all  the  time,  so  that  I  could  not  know  how  the 
world  —  at  least  its  pleasures  and  affections  —  are  pass- 
ing away  from  me.  All  this  is  dreadful,  doctor,  when 
you  come  to  think  of  it.  I  have  thought  and  thought 
and  thought  about  it,  until  it  has  become  perfectly  plain 
to  me  that  I  am  losing  my  mind." 

Dr.  Tolbridge  looked  into  the  fire. 

"Well,"  said  he,  presently,  "I  am  glad  to  hear  it." 

Miss  Dora  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"Oh,  sit  down,"  said  he,  "and  let  me  explain  myself. 
My  advice  is,  if  you  lose  your  mind,  don't  mind  the  loss. 
It  really  will  do  you  good.     That  sounds  hard  and  cruel^ 


8  THE  GIRL   AT  COBHURST 

doesn't  it?  But  wait  a  bit.  It  often  happens  that  the 
minds  of  young  people  are  like  their  first  teeth  —  what 
are  called  milk  teeth,  you  know.  These  minds  and  these 
teeth  do  very  well  for  a  time,  but  after  a  while  they 
become  unable  to  perform  the  services  which  will  be 
demanded  of  them,  and  they  are  shed,  or  at  least  they 
ought  to  be.  Sometimes,  of  course,  they  have  to  be 
extracted." 

"Nonsense,  doctor,"  said  the  young  lady,  smiling  in 
spite  of  herself,  "you  cannot  extract  a  mind." 

"Well,  perhaps  not  exactly  that,"  he  answered,  "but 
we  can  help  it  to  be  absorbed  and  to  disappear,  and  so 
make  a  way  for  the  strong,  vigorous  mind  of  maturity, 
which  is  certain  to  succeed  it.  All  this  has  happened 
and  is  happening  to  you.  Miss  Dora.  You  have  lost 
your  milk  mind,  and  the  sooner  it  is  gone  the  better. 
You  will  be  delighted  with  the  one  that  succeeds  it. 
Now  then,  can  you  give  me  an  idea  about  how  angry  you 
are?" 

"I  am  not  angry  at  all,"  she  replied,  "but  I  feel 
humiliated.  You  think  my  mental  sufferings  are  all 
fanciful." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  doctor;  "to  continue  the  dental 
simile,  they  are  the  last  aches  of  your  youthful  men- 
tality, forced  to  make  way  for  the  intellect  of  a  woman." 

Miss  Bannister  looked  out  of  the  window  for  a  few 
moments. 

"Doctor,"  she  then  said,  "I  do  not  believe  there  is 
any  one  else  who  knows  me,  who  would  tell  me  \^9<%  X 
have  the  mind  of  a  ohild." 


DR.  TOLBRIDGB  9 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Dr.  Tolbridge,  "for  it  is  not  likely 
that  there  is  any  one  else  to  whom  you  have  made  the 
fact  known." 

There  was  a  quick  flush  on  the  face  of  Miss  Dora,  and 
a  flash  in  her  blue  eyes,  and  she  reached  out  her  hand 
toward  her  muff  which  lay  on  the  table  beside  her,  but 
she  changed  her  purpose  and  drew  back  her  hand.  The 
doctor  looked  at  her  with  a  smile. 

"  You  were  just  on  the  point  of  jumping  up  and  leav- 
ing the  room  without  a  word,  weren't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  was,"  said  she,  "and  I  have  a  great  mind  to 
do  it  now,  but  first  I  must  —  " 

"Miss  Dora,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  am  delighted. 
Actually  you  are  cutting  your  new  mind.  Before  you 
can  realize  the  fact,  you  will  have  it  all  full-formed  and 
ready  for  use.  Let  me  see;  this  is  the  ninth  of  March; 
bad  roads;  bad  weather;  no  walking;  no  driving;  noth- 
ing inspiriting;  disagreeable  in  doors  and  out.  I  think 
the  full  change  will  occur  within  three  weeks.  By  the 
end  of  this  month,  you  will  not  only  have  forgotten  that 
your  milk  mind  has  troubled  you,  but  that  the  world 
was  ever  blank,  and  that  your  joys  and  affections  were 
ever  on  the  point  of  passing  away  from  you.  You  will 
then  be  the  brave-hearted,  bright-spirited  woman  that 
Nature  intended  you  to  be,  after  she  had  passed  you 
through  some  of  the  preliminary  stages." 

The  flush  on  the  face  of  Miss  Dora  gradually  passed 
away  as  she  listened  to  this  speech. 

She  rose.  "  Doctor,"  said  she,  "  I  like  that  better  than 
what  you  have  been  saying.     Anyway,  I  shall  not  bQ 


10  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

angry,  and  I  shall  wait  three  weeks  and  see  what  hap- 
pens, and  if  everything  is  all  wrong  then,  the  responsi- 
bility will  rest  on  you." 

"Very  good,"  said  he,  "I  agree  to  the  terms.  It  is  a 
bargain." 

Now  Miss  Dora  seemed  troubled  again.  She  took  up 
her  muff,  put  it  down,  drew  her  furs  about  her,  then  let 
them  fall  again,  and  finally  turned  toward  the  physician, 
who  had  also  risen. 

"Doctor,"  she  said,  "I  don't  want  you  to  put  this 
visit  in  the  family  bill.  I  wish  to  —  to  attend  to  it 
myself.  How  much  ghould  I  pay  you  ? "  and  she  took 
out  her  little  pocketbook. 

Dr.  Tolbridge  put  his  hands  behind  him. 

"This  case  is  out  of  my  usual  line  of  practice,"  he 
said,  "  and  my  ordinary  schedule  of  fees  does  not  apply 
to  it.  For  advice  such  as  I  have  given  you  I  never 
charge  money.     I  take  nothing  but  cats." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Miss  Dora;  "what  on  earth  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"I  mean  cats,"  he  replied,  "or  rather  kittens.  I  am 
very  fond  of  kittens,  and  at  present  we  have  not  one  in 
the  house.     So,  if  you  have  a  kitten  —  " 

"Dr.  Tolbridge,"  cried  Miss  Dora,  her  eyes  sparkling, 
"  do  you  really  mean  that  ?  Would  you  truly  like  to 
have  an  Angora  kitten  ?  " 

"  That  is  exactly  the  breed  I  want, "  he  answered. 

"Why,  I  have  five,"  she  said;  "they  are  only  four 
days  old,  and  perfect  beauties.  I  shall  be  charmed  to 
give  you  one,  and  I  will  pick  out  the  very  prettiest  for 


MISS  PANNEY  11 

you.  As  soon  as  it  is  old  enough,  I  will  bring  it  to  you, 
already  named,  and  with  a  ribbon  on  its  neck.  What 
color  would  you  like  the  ribbon  to  be  ?  " 

^'For  Angoras,  blue,"  he  said;  "I  shall  be  so  glad  to 
have  a  kitten  like  that ;  but  remember  that  you  must  not 
bring  it  to  me  until  its  eyes  are  opened,  and  it  has  —  " 

"Doctor,"  interrupted  Miss  Dora,  raising  her  fore- 
finger, "you  were  just  on  the  point  of  saying,  'and  has 
shed  its  milk  mind. '  Now  I  am  going  away  before  you 
make  me  angry  again." 

When  his  patient  had  gone.  Dr.  Tolbridge  put  another 
log  on  the  fire,  shook  up  the  cushions  of  the  sofa,  and 
lay  down  to  continue  his  nap. 


CHAPTER  II 

MISS    PANNEY 


The  Witton  family,  distant  relatives  of  Miss  Panney, 
with  whom  she  had  lived  for  many  years,  resided  on  a 
farm  in  the  hilly  country  above  Thorbury,  and  when 
Mrs.  Tolbridge  had  rattled  through  the  town,  she  found 
the  country  road  very  rough  and  bad  —  hard  and  bumpy 
in  some  places,  and  soft  and  muddy  in  others;  but 
Buckskin  was  in  fine  spirits  and  pulled  her  bravely  on. 

When  she  reached  the  Witton  house  she  left  the 
horse  in  charge  of  the  boy,  and  opening  the  hall  door, 
went  directly  up  to  Miss  Panney's  room.  Knocking, 
she  waited  some  little  time  for  an  answer,   and  then 


12  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

was  told,  in  a  clear,  high,  voice,  to  come  in.  The  room 
was  large  and  well  lighted.  Against  one  of  the  walls 
stood  a  high-posted  bed  with  a  canopy,  and  on  one  of 
the  pillows  of  the  bed  appeared  the  head  of  an  elderly 
woman,  the  skin  darkened  and  wrinkled  by  time,  the 
nose  aquiline,  and  the  black  eyes  very  sharp  and  quick 
of  movement.  This  head  was  surrounded  by  the  frills 
of  a  freshly  laundered  night-cap,  and  the  smooth  white 
coverlid  was  drawn  up  close  under  its  chin. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  the  person  in  the  bed, 
"  is  that  you,  Mrs.  Tolbridge  ?  I  thought  it  was  the 
doctor." 

"I  don't  wonder  at  that.  Miss  Panney,"  said  Mrs, 
Tolbridge.  "At  times  we  have  very  much  the  same 
sort  of  knock." 

"  But  where  is  the  doctor  ?  "  asked  the  old  lady. 

"I  hope  he  is  at  home  and  asleep,"  was  the  reply. 
"He  has  been  working  very  hard  lately,  and  was  up 
the  greater  part  of  last  night.  He  was  coming  here 
when  he  received  your  message,  but  I  told  him  he  should 
not  do  it;  I  would  come  myself,  and  if  I  found  it  ab- 
solutely necessary  that  you  should  see  him,  I  would 
let  him  know.  And  now  what  is  the  trouble.  Miss 
Panney  ?  " 

Miss  Panney  fixed  her  eyes  steadfastly  upon  her  vis- 
itor, who  had  taken  a  seat  by  the  bedside. 

"  Catherine  Tolbridge,"  said  she,  "  do  you  know  what 
will  happen  to  you,  if  you  don't  look  out  ?  You'll  lose 
that  man." 

"  Lose  him ! "  exclaimed  the  other. 


MISS  PANNEY  13 

"  Yes,  just  that,"  replied  the  old  lady ;  "  I  have  seen 
it  over  and  over  again.  Down  they  drop,  right  in  the 
middle  of  their  harness.  And  the  stouter  and  sturdier 
they  are,  the  worse  it  is  for  them;  they  think  they 
can  do  anything,  and  they  do  it.  I'll  back  a  skinny 
doctor  against  a  burly  one,  any  day.  He  knows  there 
are  things  he  can't  do.  He  doesn't  try,  and  he  keeps 
afloat." 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  am  trying  to  do,"  said  the 
doctor's  wife,  "and  if  those  are  your  opinions.  Miss 
Panney,  don't  you  think  that  the  doctor's  patients  ought 
to  have  a  regard  for  his  health,  and  that  they  ought  not 
to  make  him  come  to  them  in  all  sorts  of  weather,  and  at 
all  hours  of  the  day,  unless  there  is  something  serious 
the  matter  with  them?  Now  I  don't  believe  there  is 
anything  serious  the  matter  with  you  to-day." 

"There  is  always  something  serious  the  matter  with 
a  person  of  my  age,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "and  as  for 
Dr.  Tolbridge's  visits  to  me  doing  him  any  harm,  it  is 
all  stuff  and  nonsense.  They  do  him  good;  they  rest 
him;  they  brighten  him  up.  He's  never  livelier  than 
when  he  is  with  me.  He  doesn't  have  to  hang  over 
me  all  the  night,  giving  me  this  and  that,  to  keep 
the  breath  in  my  body,  when  he  ought  to  be  taking  the 
rest  that  he  needs  more  than  any  of  us." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  laughed.  "No,  indeed,"  said  she,  "he 
never  has  to  do  anything  of  that  kind  for  you.  I  believe 
you  are  the  healthiest  patient  he  has." 

"That  may  be,"  said  the  other,  "and  it  is  much  to 
his  credit,  and  to  mine,  too.     I  know  when  I  want  a 


14  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

doctor.  I  don^t  send  for  him  when  I  am  in  the  last 
stages  of  anything.  But  we  won't  talk  anything  more 
about  that.  I  want  to  know  all  about  your  husband. 
Do  you  think  he  is  really  out  of  health  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "  he  is  simply  overworked, 
and  needs  rest.  Just  the  sort  of  rest  I  hope  he  is  get- 
ting this  afternoon." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Miss  Panney ;  "  rest  is  well  enough, 
but  you  must  give  him  more  than  that  if  you  do  not 
want  to  see  him  break  down.  You  must  give  him  good 
victuals.  Eest,  without  the  best  of  food,  amounts  to 
little  in  his  case." 

"Truly,  Miss  Panney!"  exclaimed  her  visitor,  "I 
think  I  give  my  husband  as  good  living  as  any  one  in 
Thorbury  has  or  can  expect." 

"  Humph ! "  said  the  old  lady.  "  He  may  have  all  that, 
and  yet  be  starving  before  your  eyes.  There  isn't  a  man, 
woman,  or  child,  in  or  about  Thorbury,  who  really  lives 
well  —  excepting,  perhaps,  myself." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  smiled.  "I  think  you  do  manage  to 
live  very  well.  Miss  Panney." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  and  I'd  like  to  manage  to  have 
my  friends  live  well,  too.  By  the  way,  did  you  ever 
make  rum-flake  for  the  doctor,  when  he  comes  in  tired 
and  faint  ?  " 

"  I  never  heard  of  it,"  replied  the  other. 

"I  thought  as  much,"  said  Miss  Panney.  "Well,  you 
take  the  whites  of  two  eggs  and  beat  them  up,  and  while 
you  are  beating  you  sprinkle  rum  over  the  egg,  from  a 
pepper  caster,  which  you  ought  to  keep  clean  to  use  for 


MISS  PANNEY  15 

this  and  nothing  else.  Then  you  should  sift  in  sugar 
according  to  taste,  and  when  you  have  put  a  dry  mac- 
aroon, which  has  been  soaking  in  rum  all  this  time,  in 
the  bottom  of  a  glass  saucer,  you  pile  the  flake  over  it, 
and  it's  ready  for  him,  except  that  sometimes  you  put  in, 
—  let  me  see !  —  a  little  orange  juice,  I  think,  but  IVe 
got  the  recipe  there  in  my  scrap-book,  and  I  can  find  it 
in  a  minute."  So  saying,  the  old  lady  threw  aside  the 
coverlid,  and  jumped  to  the  floor  with  the  activity  of  a  cat. 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  burst  out  laughing. 

"  I  declare,  Miss  Panney ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  you  have 
your  dress  on." 

"  What  of  that  ?  "  said  the  old  lady,  opening  a  drawer. 
"  A  warm  dress  is  a  good  thing  to  wear,  at  least  I  have 
always  found  it  so." 

"  But  not  with  a  night-cap,"  said  the  other. 

"  That  depends  on  circumstances,"  said  Miss  Panney, 
turning  over  the  pages  of  a  large  scrap-book. 

"  And  shoes,"  continued  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  laughing  again. 

"  Shoes,"  cried  Miss  Panney,  pushing  out  one  foot,  and 
looking  at  it.  "  Well,  truly,  that  was  an  oversight ;  but 
here  is  the  recipe ; "  and  without  the  aid  of  spectacles, 
she  began  to  read.  "  It's  exactly  as  I  told  you,"  she  said 
presently,  "  except  that  some  people  use  sponge  cake 
instead  of  macaroons.  The  orange  juice  depends  on 
individual  taste.  Shall  I  write  that  out  for  you,  or  will 
you  remember  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  can  remember  it,"  said  the  other ;  "  but  tell  me, 
Miss  Panney  —  " 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  make  it  for  him,  and 


16  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

see  how  he  likes  it.  There  is  one  thing,  Mrs.  Tolbridge, 
that  you  should  never  forget,  and  that  is  that  the  doctor 
is  not  only  your  husband,  but  the  mainstay  of  the  com- 
munity." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that,  and  accept  the  responsibility ;  but 
you  must  tell  me  why  you  are  in  bed  with  all  your 
clothes  on.  I  believe  that  you  did  not  expect  the  doctor 
so  soon,  and  when  you  heard  my  knock,  you  clapped  on 
your  night-cap  and  jumped  into  bed." 

•^  Catherine,"  quietly  remarked  the  old  lady,  "  there  is 
nothing  so  discouraging  to  a  doctor  as  to  find  a  person 
who  has  sent  for  him  out  of  bed.  If  the  patient  is  up 
and  about,  she  mystifies  him ;  he  is  apt  to  make  mis- 
takes ;  he  loses  interest ;  he  wonders  if  she  couldn't  come 
to  him,  instead  of  his  having  to  go  to  her ;  but  when  he 
finds  the  ailing  person  in  bed,  the  case  is  natural  and 
straightforward;  he  feels  at  home,  and  knows  how  to 
go  to  work.  If  you  believe  in  a  doctor,  you  ought  to 
make  him  believe  in  you.  And  if  you  are  in  bed,  he  will 
believe  in  you,  and  if  you  are  out  of  it,  he  is  apt  not  to. 
More  than  that,  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  there  is  no  greater  com- 
pliment that  you  can  pay  to  a  physician  you  have  sent 
for,  than  to  have  him  find  you  in  bed." 

The  doctor's  wife  laughed.  She  thought,  but  she  did 
not  say  so,  that  probably  this  old  lady  had  paid  her  hus- 
band a  great  many  compliments. 

"Well,  Miss  Panney,"  she  said,  rising,  "what  report 
shall  I  make  ?  " 

The  old  lady  took  off  her  night-cap,  and  replaced  it 
with  her  ordinary  headgear  of  lace  and  ribbons. 


MISS  PANNEY  17 

"  Have  you  heard  anything,"  she  asked,  "  of  the  young 
man  who  is  coming  to  Cobhurst  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "  nothing  at  all." 

"  Well,"  continued  Miss  Panney,  "  I  think  the  doctor 
knows  something  about  him  through  old  Butterwood.  I 
have  an  idea  that  I  know  something  about  him  myself, 
but  I  wanted  to  talk  to  the  doctor  about  him.  Of  course 
this  is  a  mere  secondary  matter.  My  back  has  been 
troubling  me  a  good  deal  lately,  but  as  the  doctor  is  so 
pushed,  I  won't  ask  him  to  come  here  on  purpose  to  see 
me.  If  he's  in  the  neighborhood,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
have  him  call.  For  the  present,  I  shall  try  some  of 
the  old  liniments.  Dear  knows,  I  have  enough  of  them, 
dating  back  for  years  and  years." 

"  But  it  will  not  do  to  make  any  mistakes,  Miss  Panney. 
Those  old  prescriptions  might  not  suit  you  now." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  in  the  least  about  that,"  said 
the  old  lady,  lifting  her  hand  impressively ;  "  medicine 
never  injures  me.  Not  a  drop  of  it  do  I  ever  take  inside 
of  me,  prescription  or  no  prescription.  But  I  don't  mind 
putting  things  on  the  outside  of  me  —  of  course,  I  mean 
in  reason,  for  there  are  outside  applications  that  would 
ruin  the  constitution  of  a  jack-screw." 

There  were  very  few  people  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Thorbury  who  were  older  than  Miss  Panney,  and  very 
few  of  any  age  who  were  as  alert  in  both  mind  and  body. 
She  had  been  born  in  this  region;  had  left  it  in  her 
youth,  and  had  returned  about  thirty  years  ago,  when 
she  had  taken  up  her  abode  with  the  Wittons,  who  at 
that  time  were  a  newly  married  couple.  They  were  now 
c 


18  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUEST 

middle-aged  people,  but  Miss  Panney  still  lived  witli 
them,  and  seemed  to  be  much  the  very  same  old  lady  as 
she  was  when  she  arrived.  She  was  a  woman  who  kept 
a  good  deal  to  herself,  having  many  resources  for  her 
active  mind.  With  many  people  who  were  not  ac- 
quainted with  her  socially  but  knew  all  about  her,  she 
had  the  reputation  of  being  wicked.  The  principal  rea- 
son for  this  belief  was  the  well-known  fact  that  she  al- 
ways took  her  breakfast  in  bed.  This  was  considered  to 
be  a  French  habit,  and  the  French  were  looked  upon  as 
infidels.  Moreover,  she  never  went  to  church,  and  when 
questioned  upon  this  subject,  had  been  known  to  answer 
that  she  could  not  listen  with  patience  to  a  sermon,  for 
she  had  never  heard  one  without  thinking  that  she  could 
preach  on  that  subject  a  great  deal  better  than  the  man 
in  the  pulpit. 

In  spite  of  this  fact,  however,  the  rector  of  the  Epis- 
copal church  of  Thorbury  and  the  Methodist  minister 
were  both  great  friends  of  Miss  Panney,  and  although 
she  did  not  come  to  hear  them,  they  liked  very  much 
to  go  to  hear  her.  Mr.  Hampton,  the  Methodist,  would 
talk  to  her  about  flower-gardening  and  the  by-gone  people 
and  ways  of  the  region,  while  Mr.  Ames,  the  rector,  who 
was  a  young  man,  did  not  hesitate  to  assert  that  he  fre- 
quently got  very  good  hints  for  passages  in  his  sermons, 
from  remarks  made  by  Miss  Panney  about  things  that 
were  going  on  in  the  religious  and  social  world. 

But  although  Miss  Panney  took  pleasure  in  the  com- 
pany of  clergymen  and  physicians,  she  boldly  asserted 
that  she  liked  lawyers  better. 


MISS   PANNEY  19 

"In  the  law,"  she  would  say,  "you  find  things  fixed 
and  settled.  A  law  is  a  law,  the  same  for  everybody, 
and  no  matter  how  much  people  may  wrangle  and  dis- 
pute about  it,  it  is  there,  and  you  can  read  it  for  your- 
self. But  the  practice  of  medicine  has  to  be  shifted  to 
suit  individual  cases,  and  the  practice  of  theology  is 
shifted  to  suit  individual  creeds,  and  you  can't  put  your 
finger  on  steady  principles  as  you  can  in  law.  When  I 
put  my  finger  down,  I  like  to  be  sure  what  is  under  it." 

Miss  Panney  had  other  reasons  for  liking  lawyers,  for 
her  first  real  friend  had  been  her  legal  guardian,  old  Mr. 
Bannister  of  Thorbury.  She  was  one  of  the  few  people 
of  the  place  who  remembered  this  old  gentleman,  and 
she  had  often  told  how  shocked  and  pained  she  had  been 
when  summoned  from  boarding-school  to  attend  his 
funeral,  and  how  she  had  been  impressed  by  the  idea 
that  the  preparations  for  this  important  event  consisted 
mainly  in  beating  up  eggs,  stemming  raisins,  baking 
cakes  and  pies,  and  making  all  sorts  of  provision  for  the 
sumptuous  entertainment  of  the  people  who  should  be 
drawn  together  by  the  death  of  the  principal  citizen  of 
the  town.  To  her  mind  it  would  have  been  more  appro- 
priate had  the  company  been  fed  on  bread  and  water. 

Thomas  Bannister,  who  succeeded  to  his  father's  busi- 
ness, had  been  Miss  Panney's  legal  friend  and  counsellor 
for  many  years.  But  he,  too,  was  dead,  and  the  office  had 
now  devolved  on  Herbert  Bannister,  the  grandson  of  the 
old  gentleman,  and  the  brother  of  Miss  Dora. 

Herbert  and  Miss  Panney  were  very  good  friends,  but 
not  yet  cronies.     He  was  still  under  thirty,  and  there 


20  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

were  many  events  of  the  past  of  which  he  knew  but 
little,  and  about  which  he  could  not  wholly  sympathize 
with  her.  But  she  believed  that  years  would  ripen  him, 
and  that  the  time  would  come  when  she  would  get  along 
as  well  with  him  as  she  had  with  his  father  and  grand- 
father. 

She  was  not  supposed  to  be  a  rich  woman,  and  she  had 
not  been  much  engaged  in  suits  at  law,  but  it  was  sur- 
prising how  much  legal  business  Miss  Panney  had,  as 
well  as  business  of  many  other  kinds. 

When  Mrs.  Tolbridge  had  left  her,  the  old  lady  put 
away  her  scrap-book,  and  prepared  to  go  downstairs. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  that  one  of 
the  bodily  ailments  which  is  bound  to  show  itself  in  the 
family  in  the  course  of  the  spring,  should  not  have 
turned  up  to-day.  I  want  very  much  to  talk  to  the 
doctor  about  the  young  man  at  Cobhurst,  and  I  cannot 
drive  about  the  country  in  such  weather  as  this." 


CHAPTER  III 


BROTHER   AND  SISTER 


There  were  other  people  in  and  around  Thorbury,  who 
very  much  wanted  to  know  something  about  the  young 
man  at  Cobhurst,  but  this  desire  was  interfered  with  by 
the  fact  that  the  young  man  was  not  yet  at  Cobhurst, 
and  did  not  seem  to  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  there. 

Cobhurst  was  the  name  of  an  estate  a  mile  or  so  from 


BROTHER   AND   SISTER  21 

the  Witton  farm,  whose  wide  fields  had  lain  for  a  half  a 
dozen  years  untilled,  and  whose  fine  old  mansion  had 
been,  for  nearly  a  year,  uninhabited.  Its  former  owner, 
Matthias  Butter  wood,  a  bachelor,  and  during  the  greater 
part  of  his  life,  a  man  who  took  great  pride  in  his  farm, 
his  stock,  and  his  fruit  trees,  had  been  afflicted  in  his 
later  years  with  various  kinds  of  rheumatism,  and  had 
been  led  to  wander  about  to  different  climates  and  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  hot  springs  for  the  sake  of  physical 
betterment. 

When  at  home  in  these  latter  days,  old  Butterwood 
had  been  content  to  have  his  garden  cultivated,  for  he 
could  still  hobble  about  and  look  at  that,  and  had  left 
his  fields  to  take  care  of  themselves,  until  he  should  be 
well  enough  to  be  his  own  farmer,  as  he  had  always 
been.  But  old  age,  coming  to  the  aid  of  his  other  com- 
plaints, had  carried  him  off  a  few  months  before  this 
story  begins. 

The  only  person  now  living  at  Cobhurst  was  a  colored 
man  named  Mike,  who  inhabited  the  gardener's  house 
and  held  the  office  of  care-taker  of  the  place. 

Whenever  Mike  now  came  to  town  with  his  old  wagon 
and  horse,  or  when  he  was  met  on  the  road,  he  found 
people  more  and  more  inquisitive  about  the  new  owner 
of  Cobhurst.  Mike  was  not  altogether  a  negro,  having 
a  good  deal  of  Irish  blood  in  his  veins,  and  this  conjunc- 
tion of  the  two  races  in  his  individuality  had  had  the 
effect  upon  his  speech  of  destroying  all  tendency  to 
negro  dialect  or  Irish  brogue,  so  that,  in  fact,  he  spoke 
like  ordinary  white  people  of  his  grade  in  life.     The 


22  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

effect  upon  his  character,  however,  had  been  somewhat 
different,  and  while  the  vivacity  of  the  African  and  that 
of  the  Hibernian,  in  a  degree,  had  neutralized  each 
other,  making  him  at  times  almost  as  phlegmatic  as  the 
traditional  Dutchman,  he  would  sometimes  exhibit  the 
peculiarities  of  a  Sambo,  and  sometimes  those  of  a 
Paddy. 

Mike  could  give  no  satisfaction  to  his  questioners ;  he 
knew  nothing  of  the  newcomer,  except  that  he  had  re- 
ceived a  postal  card,  directed  to  the  man  in  charge  of 
Cobhurst,  and  which  stated  that  Mr.  Haverley  would 
arrive  there  on  the  fourth  of  April. 

"More'n  that,"  Mike  would  say,  "I  don't  know 
nothin\  Whether  he's  old  or  young,  and  what  family 
he's  got,  I  can't  tell  ye.  All  I  know  is,  that  he  don't 
seem  in  no  hurry  to  see  his  place,  an'  he  must  be  a 
reg'lar  city  man,  or  he'd  know  that  winter's  the  time 
to  come  to  work  a  farm  in  the  spring  of  the  year." 

Other  people,  however,  knew  more  about  Mr.  Haverley 
than  Mike  did,  and  Miss  Panney  could  have  informed 
any  one  that  he  was  a  young  man,  unmarried,  and  a 
second  nephew  to  old  Butterwood.  She  had  faith  that 
Dr.  Tolbridge  could  give  her  some  additional  points, 
provided  she  could  get  an  opportunity  of  properly  ques- 
tioning him. 

Meanwhile  the  days  passed  on;  the  roads  about  Thor- 
bury  dried  up  and  grew  better;  in  low,  sheltered  places, 
the  grass  showed  a  greenish  hue;  the  willows  turned 
yellow,  and  people  began  to  ponder  over  the  catalogues 
of  seed  merchants.     At  last,  it  was  the  third  of  April, 


BROTHER   AND  SISTER  23 

and  on  that  day,  in  a  large  bright  room  of  a  New  York 
boarding-house,  kneeling  in  front  of  an  open  trunk,  were 
Mr.  Ralph  Haverley  and  his  sister  Miriam. 

Presently  Miriam,  whose  years  had  not  yet  reached 
fifteen,  vigorously  pushed  a  pair  of  slippers  into  an 
unoccupied  crevice  in  the  trunk,  and  then,  drawing 
back,  seated  herself  on  a  stool. 

"The  delightful  thing  about  this  packing  is,"  she  said, 
"that  it  will  never  have  to  be  done  again.  I  am  not 
going  to  any  school,  or  any  country  place  to  board;  you 
are  not  going  to  a  hotel,  not  to  any  house  kept  by  other 
people ;  our  things  do  not  have  to  be  packed  separately ; 
we  can  put  them  in  anywhere  where  they  will  fit ;  we 
are  both  going  to  the  same  place;  we  are  going  home, 
and  there  we  shall  stay." 

"  Always  ? "  asked  her  brother,  looking  up  with  a 
smile. 

"Always,"  answered  Miriam.  "When  one  gets  a 
home,  one  stays  there.     At  least  I  do." 

"  And  you  will  not  even  go  away  to  school  ? "  he 
asked. 

"By  no  means,"  said  his  sister,  looking  at  him  with 
much  earnestness.  "  I  have  been  to  school  ever  since  I 
was  six  years  old,  —  nearly  nine  years,  — and  I  positively 
declare  that  that  is  long  enough  for  any  girl.  Others 
stay  later,  but  then  they  do  not  begin  so  soon.  As  to 
finishing  my  education,  as  they  call  it,  I  shall  do  that  at 
home.  What  a  happy  thought!  It  makes  me  want  to 
skip.  And  you  are  to  be  my  teacher,  Ealph.  I  am  sure 
you  know  everything  that  I  shall  need  to  know." 


24  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

Ralph  laughed. 

"I  suppose  you  will  examine  me  to  see  what  I  do 
know,"  he  said,  as  he  folded  a  heavy  overcoat  and  laid 
it  in  the  trunk. 

Miriam  sprang  up  and  began  to  collect  more  of  her 
effects. 

"We  shall  see  about  that,"  she  said,  and  then,  sud- 
denly stopping,  she  turned  toward  her  brother.  "  There 
is  one  thing,  Ealph,  about  which  I  need  not  examine  you 
at  all,  and  that  is  goodness  of  heart.  If  you  had  not 
had  a  very  good  heart  indeed,  you  would  not  have  waited 
and  waited  and  waited  —  fairly  pinching  yourself,  I 
expect  —  till  I  could  get  away  from  school  and  we  could 
both  go  together  and  look  at  our  new  home  in  the  very 
same  instant." 

Ralph  Haverley  was  a  brown-haired,  bright-eyed 
young  fellow  under  thirty.  He  had  been  educated  for 
a  profession,  but  the  death  of  his  parents,  before  he 
reached  his  majority,  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  go  to 
work  at  something  by  which  he  could  immediately  earn 
money  enough  to  support  not  only  himself,  but  his  little 
sister.  At  his  father's  death,  which  occurred  a  month 
or  two  after  that  of  his  mother,  young  Haverley  found 
that  the  family  resources,  which  had  never  been  great, 
had  almost  entirely  disappeared.  He  could  barely 
scrape  together  enough  money  to  send  Miriam  to  a 
boarding-school  and  to  keep  himself  alive  until  he  could 
get  work.  He  had  spent  a  great  part  of  his  boyhood  in 
the  country.  His  tastes  and  disposition  inclined  him 
to  an  out-door  life,  and,  had  he  been  able,  he  would  have 


BROTHER   AND   SISTER  25 

gone  to  the  West,  and  established  himself  upon  a  ranch. 
But  this  was  impossible ;  he  must  do  the  work  that  was 
nearest  at  hand,  and  as  soon  as  he  found  it,  he  set  him- 
self at  it  with  a  will. 

For  eight  long  years  he  had  struggled  and  labored; 
changing  his  occupation  several  times,  but  always  living 
in  the  city;  always  making  his  home  in  a  boarding-house 
or  a  hotel.  His  pluck  and  energy  had  had  its  reward, 
and  for  the  past  three  years  he  had  held  a  responsible 
and  well-paid  position  in  a  mercantile  house.  But  his 
life  and  his  work  had  for  him  nothing  but  a  passing  in- 
terest; he  had  no  sympathy  with  bonded  warehouses, 
invoices,  and  ledgers.  All  he  could  look  forward  to 
was  a  higher  position,  a  larger  salary,  and,  when  Miriam 
should  graduate,  a  little  home  somewhere  where  she 
could  keep  house  for  him.  In  his  dreams  of  this  home, 
he  would  sometimes  place  it  in  the  suburbs,  where  Sun- 
days and  holidays  spent  in  country  air  would  compen- 
sate for  hasty  breakfasts,  early  morning  trains,  and  late 
ones  in  the  afternoon.  But  when  he  reflected  that  it 
would  not  do  to  leave  his  young  sister  alone  all  day  in  a 
thinly  settled,  rural  place,  at  the  mercy  of  tramps,  he 
was  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the  thing  for  them  to 
do  was  to  live  in  a  city  apartment.  But  there  was 
nothing  in  either  of  these  outlooks  to  create  fervent 
longings  in  the  soul  of  Ralph  Haverley. 

For  some  legal  reason,  probably  connected  with  the 
fact  that  old  Butterwood  died  at  a  health  resort  in 
Arkansas,  Haverley  did  not  learn  until  late  in  the  winter 
that  his  mother's  uncle  had  left  to  him  the  estate  of 


26  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

Cobhurst.  The  reason  for  this  bequest,  as  stated  in  the 
will,  was  the  old  man's  belief  that  the  said  Ralph 
Haverley  was  the  only  one  of  his  blood  relations  who 
seemed  to  be  getting  on  in  the  world,  and  to  him  he  left 
the  house,  farm,  and  all  the  personal  property  he  might 
find  therein  and  thereon,  but  not  one  cent  of  money. 
Where  the  testator's  money  was  bestowed,  Ralph  did  not 
know,  for  he  did  not  see  the  will. 

When  Ralph  heard  of  his  good  fortune,  his  true  life 
seemed  to  open  before  him ;  his  Butterwood  blood  boiled 
in  his  veins.  He  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  as  to  his 
course,  for  he  was  of  the  opinion  that  if  a  healthy  young 
man  could  not  make  a  living  out  of  a  good  farm  he  did 
not  deserve  to  live  at  all.  He  gave  immediate  notice  of 
his  intention  to  abandon  mercantile  life,  and  set  himself 
to  work  by  day  and  by  night  to  wind  up  his  business 
affairs,  so  that  he  might  be  free  by  the  beginning  of 
April.  It  was  this  work  which  helped  him  to  control  his 
desire  to  run  off  and  take  a  look  at  Cobhurst  without 
waiting  for  his  sister. 

Of  the  place  which  was  to  be  their  home,  Miriam  knew 
absolutely  nothing,  but  Ralph  had  heard  his  mother  talk 
about  her  visits  to  her  uncle,  and,  in  his  mind,  the  name 
Cobhurst  had  always  called  up  visions  of  wide  halls  and 
lofty  chambers,  broad  piazzas,  sunny  slopes  and  lawns, 
green  meadows,  and  avenues  bordered  with  tall  trees  — 
a  grand  estate  in  fact,  with  woods  full  of  nuts,  streams 
where  a  boy  could  fish,  and  horses  that  he  might  ride. 
Had  these  ideas  existed  in  Miriam's  mind,  the  brother 
and  sister  would  have  visited  Cobhurst  the  day  after  he 


THE   HOME  27 

brought  her  the  letter  from  the  lawyer ;  but  her  concep- 
tions of  the  place  were  vague  and  without  form,  except 
when  she  associated  it  with  the  homes  of  girls  she  had 
visited.  But  as  none  of  these  suited  her  very  well,  she 
preferred  to  fall  back  upon  chaotic  anticipation. 

"When  I  think  of  Cobhurst,"  she  wrote  to  her 
brother,  "I  smell  marigolds,  and  think  of  rather  poor 
blackberries  that  you  pick  from  bushes.  Please  do  not 
put  in  your  letters  anything  that  you  know  about  it,  for 
I  would  rather  see  everything  for  myself." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   HOME 


It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Balph  and  Miriam 
Haverley  alighted  at  the  station  at  Thorbury.  Miss 
Dora  Bannister,  who  had  come  down  to  see  a  friend  off, 
noticed  the  two  standing  on  the  platform.  She  did  not 
know  who  they  were,  but  she  thought  the  one  to  be  a 
very  handsome  young  man,  and  the  other  a  nice-looking 
girl  who  seemed  to  be  all  eyes. 

"  What  a  queer-looking  colored  man ! "  said  Miriam. 
"He  looks  mashed  on  top." 

The  person  alluded  to  was  getting  down  from  a 
wagon  drawn  by  a  mournful  horse,  and  now  approached 
the  platform. 

"  Is  you  Mr.  Hav'ley,  sir  ?  "  he  said,  touching  his  hat. 


28  THE  GIRL  AT   COB  HURST 

"Thought  so;  I'm  the  man  in  charge  o'  yer  place.  Got 
any  baggage,  sir?" 

On  being  informed  that  the  travellers  had  brought 
three  trunks  with  them,  and  that  some  boxes  would  be 
expected  on  the  morrow,  Mike,  who  with  his  worn  felt 
hat  pressed  flat  upon  his  head,  might  give  one  the  idea 
of  a  bottle  with  the  cork  driven  in,  stood  for  a  moment 
in  thought. 

"I  can  take  one  trunk,"  he  said,  "the  one  ye  will 
want  the  most  to-night,  and  ye'd  better  have  the  others 
hauled  over  to-morrow  with  the  boxes.  Ye  can  both  go 
in  the  wagon,  if  ye  like.  The  seat  can  be  pushed  back, 
and  I  can  sit  on  the  trunk  myself,  or  ye  can  hire  a 
kerridge." 

"  Of  course  we  will  take  a  cab,"  said  Kalph.  "  How 
far  is  it  to  Cobhurst?" 

"  Well,  some  says  three  miles,  and  some  says  four.  It 
depends  a  good  deal  on  the  roads.  They're  pretty  good 
to-day." 

Having  engaged  the  services  of  a  country  cabman,  who 
declared  that  he  had  known  Cobhurst  ever  since  he  was 
born,  and  having  arranged  for  the  transfer  of  their  goods 
the  next  day,  the  Haverleys  rattled  out  of  the  town. 

"  Now,"  said  Miriam,  "  we  are  truly  going  home,  and 
I  do  not  remember  ever  doing  that  before.  And,  Ealph," 
she  continued,  after  gazing  right  and  left  from  the  cab 
windows,  "  one  of  the  first  things  we  ought  to  do  is  to 
get  a  new  man  to  take  charge  of  the  place.  That  person 
isn't  fit.     I  never  saw  such  slouchy  clothes." 

Balph  laughed.    "  I  am  the  man  who  is  to  have  charge 


THE  HOME  29 

of  the  place,"  he  said.  "What  do  you  think  of  my 
clothes  ?  " 

Miriam  gave  a  little  pull  at  his  hair  for  reply.  "And 
there  is  another  thing/'  she  continued.  "  If  that  is  our 
horse  and  wagon,  don't  you  really  think  that  we  ought 
to  sell  them  ?     They  are  awful." 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  said  Ealph.  "  We  shall  soon 
find  out  whether  we  own  the  horse  or  not.  He  may  be- 
long to  the  man.  He's  not  a  bad  one,  either.  See,  he  is 
passing  us  now  with  that  big  trunk  in  the  wagon." 

"  Passing  us ! "  exclaimed  Miriam.  "  Almost  any  horse 
could  do  that.  Did  you  ever  see  such  an  old  poke  as  we 
have,  and  such  a  bouncy,  jolting  rattletrap  of  a  carriage? 
It  squeaks  all  over." 

"Alas,"  said  Ralph,  "I  am  thinking  of  something 
worse  than  jolts  or  squeaks.  I  am  hungry,  and  I  am 
sure  you  must  be,  and  I  don't  see  what  we  are  going  to 
do  about  supper.  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  a  very  good 
manager,  yet.  I  had  an  idea  that  Cobhurst  was  not  so 
far  frOm  the  station,  and  that  we  could  go  over  and  look 
at  the  house,  and  come  back  to  a  hotel  and  stay  there 
for  the  night ;  but  now  I  see  it  will  be  dark  before  we 
get  there,  and  we  shall  not  feel  like  turning  round  and 
going  directly  back.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  turn 
now." 

"  Turn  back,  when  we  are  going  to  our  home  I "  cried 
Miriam.  "  How  can  you  think  of  such  a  thing,  Ealph  ? 
And  you  needn't  suppose  that  neither  of  us  is  a  good 
manager.  I  am  housekeeper  now,  and  I  did  not  forget 
that  we  shall  need  our  supper.     I  have  it  all  there  in 


80  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

my  bag,  and  I  shall  cook  it  as  soon  as  we  reach  the 
house.  Of  course  I  knew  that  we  could  not  expect  any- 
thing to  eat  in  a  place  with  only  a  man  to  take  care  of 
it." 

"  What  in  the  world  have  you  ?  "  asked  Ealph,  much 
amused. 

"  I  have  four  breakfast  rolls,"  she  said,  "  six  mutton 
chops,  a  package  of  ground  coffee,  another  of  tea,  a 
pound  of  sugar,  and  a  good  big  piece  of  gingerbread. 
I  am  sorry  I  couldn^t  bring  any  butter,  but  I  was  afraid 
that  might  melt  in  a  warm  car,  and  run  over  everything. 
As  for  milk,  we  shall  have  to  make  up  our  minds  to  do 
without  that  for  one  meal.  I  got  up  early  this  morning, 
and  went  out  and  bought  all  these  things." 

Ealph  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "What  are  we 
going  to  have  for  breakfast  ?  "  But  he  would  not  trouble 
his  sister's  mind  with  any  such  suggestions. 

"  You  are  a  good  little  housewife,"  said  he ;  "I  wish 
we  were  there,  and  sitting  down  at  the  table  —  if  there 
is  any  table." 

"  I  have  thought  it  all  out,"  said  Miriam,  "  if  it  is  one 
of  those  large  farm-houses,  with  a  big  kitchen,  where  the 
family  eat  and  spend  their  evening,  we  shall  eat  there, 
too,  this  once.  You  shall  build  a  fire,  and  I'll  have  the 
coffee  made  in  no  time.  There  must  be  a  coffee-pot,  or 
a  tin  cup,  or  something  to  boil  in.  The  chops  can  be 
broiled  over  the  coals." 

"  On  what  ?  "  asked  Ealph. 

"  You  can  get  a  pointed  stick  and  toast  them,  if  there 
is  no  other  way,  sir.    And  you  need  not  make  fun  of 


THE  HOME  31 

my  supper;  the  chops  are  very  nice  ones,  and  I  have 
wrapped  them  up  in  oiled  silk,  so  that  they  will  not 
grease  the  other  things." 

"Oh,  don't  talk  any  more  about  them,"  exclaimed 
Ralph.     "It  makes  me  too  dreadfully  hungry." 

"If  it  is  a  cottage,"  remarked  Miriam,  looking  reflec- 
tively  out  of  the  window,  "  I  cannot  get  it  out  of  mind 
that  there  will  be  all  sorts  of  kitchen  things  hanging 
around  the  old-fashioned  fireplace.  That  would  be  very 
nice  and  convenient,  but  —  " 

"  You  hope  it  is  not  a  cottage  ?  "  said  her  brother. 

"  Well,"  answered  Miriam,  presently,  "  home  is  home, 
and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  be  perfectly  satisfied  with  it 
whatever  kind  of  house  it  may  be.  It  seems  to  me  that 
a  real  home  ought  to  be  like  parents  and  relations ;  weVe 
got  them,  and  we  can't  change  them,  and  we  never  think 
of  such  a  thing.  We  love  them  quite  as  they  are.  But 
I  cannot  help  hoping,  just  a  little,  that  it  is  not  a  cottage. 
The  only  ones  I  have  ever  been  in  smelt  so  much  of 
soapsuds." 

It  was  now  quite  dark,  and  the  road  appeared  to  be 
growing  rougher.  Every  now  and  then  they  jolted  over 
a  big  stone,  or  sunk  into  a  deep  rut.  Ealph  let  down  the 
front  window. 

"  Are  we  nearly  there  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  driver. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man ;  "  we  are  on  the  place  now." 

"You  don't  mean,"  exclaimed  Miriam,  "that  this  is 
our  road ! " 

"  It's  a  good  deal  washed  just  here,"  said  the  man,  "  by 
the  heavy  rains." 


82  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

Presently  the  road  became  smoother  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes the  carriage  stopped. 

"  I  am  trembling  all  over,"  said  Miriam,  "  with  think- 
ing of  being  at  home,  and  with  not  an  idea  of  what  it  is 
like." 

In  a  moment  they  were  standing  on  a  broad  flagstone. 
Although  it  was  dark,  they  could  see  the  outline  of  the 
house  before  them. 

"Ralph,"  whispered  Miriam,  drawing  close  to  her 
brother,  "it  is  not  a  cottage."  Without  waiting  for  a 
reply  she  went  on :  "  Ralph,"  she  said,  her  hands  trem- 
bling as  they  held  his  arm,  "  it  is  lordly." 

"I  had  some  sort  of  an  idea  like  that  myself,"  he  an- 
swered ;  "  but,  my  dear,  don't  you  think  it  will  be  well 
to  keep  this  man  until  we  go  inside  and  see  what  sort  of 
accommodations  we  shall  find  ?  Perhaps  we  may  be 
obliged  to  go  back  to  the  town." 

Miriam  immediately  began  to  ascend  the  broad  steps 
of  the  piazza. 

"Come  on,  Ralph,"  she  said,  "and  please  don't  talk 
like  that." 

Her  brother  laughed,  paid  the  driver  and  dismissed 
him. 

"  Now,  little  girl,"  he  cried,  "  we  have  burned  our 
ships,  and  must  take  what  we  shall  find." 

"  Oh,  Ralph,"  cried  Miriam,  "  I  couldn't  have  gone 
back.  If  there  are  floors  to  the  rooms,  they  will  do  to 
sleep  on  for  to-night." 

At  this  moment  a  wide  front  door  opened,  revealing 
a  colored  woman  holding  a  lamp. 


THE  HOME  88 

"  Good  evening  said  she ;  "  walk  in." 

When  Ealph  and  Miriam  had  entered,  the  -woinan 
looked  out  the  open  door. 

"  Is  you  all  ?  "  she  asked. 

«  Oh,  yes,"  said  Ealph. 

The  woman  hesitated  a  moment,  looked  out  again,  and 
then  closed  the  door. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  to  your  rooms  afore  supper  ?  " 
she  asked. 

The  brother  and  sister  were  so  absorbed  in  gazing 
about  them,  that  they  did  not  hear  the  question.  The 
lamp,  still  in  the  woman's  hand,  gave  a  poor  and  vacillat- 
ing light,  but  they  could  see  a  wide,  long  hall,  tall  doors 
opening  on  each  side,  some  high-backed  chairs,  and  other 
dark-colored  furniture. 

"  Yer  rooms  is  ready,"  continued  the  woman ;  "  ye  can 
take  yer  pick  of  them.  Supper'll  be  on  the  table  the 
minute  ye  come  down.  Ye'd  better  take  this  lamp,  sir, 
and  thar's  another  one  in  the  upper  hall.  I  expect  ye 
two  i&  brother  and  sister.  Ye're  alike  as  two  pins  of 
different  sizes." 

^'  You're  right,"  said  Ralph,  holding  up  the  lamp,  and 
looking  about  him ;  "  but  please  tell  me,  where  are  the 
stairs  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yer  open  that  glass  door  right  in  front  of  ye," 
said  the  woman.  "  I'd  go  with  yer,  but  I  smell  some- 
thin'  bilin'  over  now." 

Opening  the  glass  door,  they  saw  before  them  a  narrow 
staircase  in  two  flights. 

"  Stairs  shut  up  in  a  room  of  their  own,"  said  Ralph, 


34  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

as  they  ascended.  "  Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  this 
before?" 

"I  never  saw  anything  like  anything  before,"  said 
Miriam,  in  a  low,  reverent  voice. 

On  the  floor  above  they  found  another  wide  hall,  and 
four  or  five  open  doors. 

"There  is  your  lamp,"  said  Ralph  to  his  sister;  "take 
the  first  room  you  come  to,  and  to-morrow  we  will  pick 
and  choose." 

"Who  would  have  thought,"  said  Miriam,  "that  a 
woman  —  " 

"  Don^t  let  us  think  or  talk  of  her  now,"  interrupted 
her  brother.  "  To  hurry  down  to  supper  is  our  present 
business." 

When  the  two  went  downstairs,  they  found  the  colored 
woman  standing  by  an  open  door  in  the  rear  of  the  hall. 

"  Supper's  ready,  sir,"  said  she,  and  they  entered  the 
dining-room. 

It  was  a  large  and  rather  sparely  furnished  room,  but 
Miriam  and  Ralph  took  no  note  of  anything  except  the 
table,  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  lighted  by 
a  hanging  lamp.  It  was  a  large  table  and  arranged  for 
eight  people  with  chairs  at  every  place.  The  woman 
gave  a  little  laugh,  as  she  said :  — 

"  I  reckon  you  all  may  think  this  is  a  pretty  big  table 
for  two  people,  an'  one  not  growed  up,  but  you  see  I 
didn't  know  nothin'  about  the  size  of  the  family,  an' 
Mike  he  didn't  know  nothin'  either.  I'm  Phoebe,  Mike's 
wife,  an'  I  ain't  got  nothin'  in  the  world  to  do  with  this 
liousa,  for  mostly  I  go  out  to  service  in  the  town,  but  I'm 


THE  HOME  36 

here  now ;  and  of  course  we  didn't  want  you  all  to  come 
an'  find  nothin'  to  eat,  an'  no  beds  made,  an'  as  you 
didn't  write  no  orders,  sir,  we  had  just  to  do  the  best  we 
could  accordin'  to  our  own  lights.  I  reckoned  there 
would  be  the  gem'en  and  his  wife,  an'  perhaps  two 
growed-up  sons,  though  Mike,  he  was  doubtful  about  the 
growed-up  sons,  especially  as  to  thar  bein'  two  of  them. 
Then  I  reckoned  thar'd  be  a  darter,  just  about  your  age. 
Miss,  an'  then  there'd  be  two  younger  chillen,  one  a  boy 
an'  one  a  girl,  an'  a  gov'ness  for  these  two.  Of  course  I 
didn't  know  whether  the  gov'ness  was  in  the  habit  of 
eatin'  at  your  table  or  not,  but  I  reckoned  that  this  time, 
comin'  so  late,  you'd  all  eat  at  the  same  table,  an'  I  put  a 
plate  an'  a  cheer  for  her.  An'  Mike  went  ter  town,  an' 
got  groc'ries  an'  things  enough  for  to-night  and  to- 
morrow, an'  as  everything  was  ready  I  just  left  every- 
thing as  it  was.  I  reckoned  you  wouldn't  want  ter  wait 
until  I'd  sot  the  whole  table  over  again." 

"By  no  means,"  cried  Ralph,  and  down  they  sat, 
Kalph  at  one  end  of  the  long  table,  and  Miriam  at  the 
other.  It  was  a  good  supper ;  beefsteak,  an  omelet,  hot 
rolls,  fried  potatoes,  coffee,  tea,  preserved  fruit,  and  all 
on  the  scale  suited  to  a  family  of  eight. 

When  Phoebe  had  retired  to  the  kitchen,  presumably 
for  additional  supplies,  Miriam  stretched  her  arms  over 
the  table. 

"Think  of  it,  Ralph,"  she  said,  "this  is  our  supper. 
The  first  meal  we  ever  truly  owned." 

They  had  not  been  long  at  the  table  when  they  were 
startled  by  the  loud  ringing  of  the  door-bell. 


36  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHtJRST 

"  Yon  my  word,"  ejaculated  Phoebe,  "  it's  a  long  time 
since  that  belPs  been  rung,"  and  setting  down  a  plate 
of  hotter  biscuit,  with  which  she  had  been  offering 
temptations,  she  left  the  room.  Presently  she  returned, 
ushering  in  Dr.  Tolbridge. 

Briefly  introducing  himself,  the  doctor  welcomed  the 
brother  and  sister  to  the  neighborhood  of  Thorbury, 
and  apologized  for  the  extreme  promptness  of  his  call. 

"  I  heard  you  had  arrived,"  he  said,  "  from  a  hackman 
I  met  on  the  road,  and  having  made  a  visit  near  by  I 
thought  I  would  look  in  on  you.  It  might  be  days 
before  I  should  again  have  a  chance.  But  don't  let  me 
disturb  your  supper;  I  beg  that  you  will  sit  down 
again," 

^^And  I  beg  you,  sir,"  said  Ealph,  "to  sit  down 
with  us." 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  smiling,  "  I  am  hungry,  and 
my  own  supper-time  is  passed.  You  seem  to  have 
plenty  of  room  for  a  guest." 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,  sir,"  said  Miriam,  who  had  already 
taken  a  fancy  to  the  doctor's  genial  face.  "Phoebe 
thought  we  were  a  large  family,  and  you  can  take  the 
seat  of  one  of  the  grown-up  sons,  or  the  daughter's  chair, 
or  the  place  that  was  intended  for  either  the  little  boy 
or  little  girl,  or  perhaps  you  would  like  the  governess' 
seat." 

At  this  Phoebe  turned  her  face  to  the  wall  and 
giggled. 

"A  fine  imagination,"  said  the  doctor,  "and  what  is 
better,  a  bountiful  meal.    Please  consider  me,  for  the 


THE   HOME  87 

present,  tlie  smallest  boy,  who  might  naturally  be  sup- 
posed to  have  the  biggest  appetite/' 

"  It  would  have  been  funnier,"  said  Miriam,  gravely, 
"if  you  had  been  the  governess." 

The  supper  was  a  lively  one ;  the  three  appetites 
were  excellent ;  the  doctor  was  in  his  j  oiliest  mood,  and 
Ealph  and  Miriam  were  delighted  with  him.  On  his 
part,  he  could  not  help  looking  upon  it  in  the  light  of 
a  joke  —  an  agreeable  one,  however  —  that  these  two 
young  people,  one  of  them  a  mere  child,  should  con- 
stitute the  new  Cobhurst  family.  He  had  known  that 
the  property  had  gone  to  an  unmarried  man  who  was 
in  business,  and  had  not  thought  of  his  coming  here 
to  live. 

"And  now,"  said  the  doctor,  as  they  rose  from  the 
table,  "  I  must  go.  My  wife  will  call  on  you  very  soon, 
and  in  the  meantime,  what  is  there  that  I  can  do  for 
you?" 

"I  think,"  answered  Miriam,  looking  about  her  to 
see  that  Phoebe  was  not  in  the  room,  "that  it  would 
be  very  nice  if  you  could  get  us  a  new  man.  We  like 
the  woman  well  enough,  but  the  man  is  awful." 

The  doctor  looked  at  her,  astonished. 

"  Do  you  mean  Mike  ?  "  he  asked,  "  the  faithful  Mike, 
who  has  been  in  charge  here  ever  since  Mr.  Butterwood 
took  to  travelling  about  for  the  good  of  his  rheumatisms  ? 
Why,  my  dear  young  lady,  the  whole  country  looks  upon 
Mike  as  a  pattern  man-of -all-work.  He  may  be  getting 
a  little  cranky  and  independent  in  his  notions,  for  he 
has  been  pretty  much  his  own  master  for  years,  but  I 


38  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

am  sure  you  could  find  no  one  to  take  his  place  who 
would  be  more  trustworthy  or  so  generally  useful." 

Ralph  was  about  to  explain  that  it  was  only  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  man  to  which  his  sister  objected,  but 
she  spoke  for  herself. 

"Of  course,  we  oughtn't  always  to  judge  people  by 
their  looks,"  she  said,  "but  in  my  thoughts  about  our 
home,  I  never  connected  it  with  such  a  very  shabby 
person.  But  then,  if  he  is  an  old  family  servant,  he 
may  be  the  very  kind  of  a  man  the  place  needs." 

"Oh,  I  advise  you  to  stick  to  Mike,  by  all  means," 
said  the  doctor,  "and  to  Phoebe,  too,  if  she  will  stay 
with  you.  But  I  think  she  prefers  the  town  to  this 
somewhat  secluded  place." 

"A  good  omen,"  said  Ealph,  as  he  closed  the  door 
after  the  doctor.  "As  a  neighbor,  I  believe  that  man 
is  at  the  head  of  his  class,  and  I  am  very  glad  that  he 
happened  to  be  the  first  one  who  came  to  see  us." 

"Well,"  said  Miriam,  "we  haven't  seen  the  others 
yet,  and  I  am  glad  that  we  don't  know  whether  this 
doctor  is  homoeopathic  or  allopathic,  so  that  we  can  get 
started  in  liking  him  before  we  know  whether  we  ap- 
prove of  his  medicines  or  not." 

"Upon  my  word,"  cried  Ralph,  "I  never  knew 
that  you  had  opinions  about  the  different  medical 
schools.  Did  they  teach  you  that  sort  of  thing  at 
Mrs.  Stone's?" 

"I  suppose  I  can  have  opinions  without  having  them 
taught  to  me,  can't  I  ?  "  she  answered.  "  I  saw  a  lot  of 
sickness  among  the  girls,  and  I  am  homoeopathic." 


THE  HOME  89 

"  Stuff/'  exclaimed  Kalph,  "  I  don't  believe  you  ever 
took  any  medicine  in  your  life." 

"  I  have  not  taken  much,"  answered  Miriam,  "  but  I 
have  taken  enough  to  settle  it  in  my  mind  that  I  am 
never  going  to  take  any  more  of  the  same  sort." 

"  And  they  were  not  little  sugar  pills  ?  " 

"No,  indeed  they  were  not,"  said  Miriam,  very 
decidedly. 

"  I've  made  a  fire  in  the  parlor,"  said  Phoebe,  coming 
in,  "  if  you  all  want  to  sit  there  afore  you  go  to  bed." 

"  I  don't  want  to  sit  anywhere,"  cried  Miriam,  "  and  I 
am  crazy  to  get  a  peep  out  of  doors.  Come  on,  Ralph, 
just  for  a  minute." 

Ealph  followed  her  out  on  the  piazza. 

"  It's  awfully  dark,"  said  Miriam,  "  but  if  we  walk  care- 
fully, I  think  we  can  get  far  enough  away  from  the  house 
to  look  up  at  it,  and  find  out  a  little  what  it  looks  like." 

They  groped  their  way  across  the  driveway,  and  on  to 
the  grass  beyond. 

"  We  can  see  a  good  deal  of  it  against  the  sky ! "  ex- 
claimed Miriam.  "What  tall  pillars!  It  looks  like  a 
Greek  temple  in  front.  And  from  what  I  can  make  out, 
it's  pretty  much  ail  front." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  a  regular  old-fashioned  house,"  said 
her  brother,  "  with  a  Grecian  portico  front,  and  perhaps 
another  at  the  back.  But  you  must  come  in  now,  for 
you  have  on  neither  hat  nor  wrap."  And  he  took  her  by 
the  hand. 

"  It  isn't  cold,"  said  Miriam,  "  and  oh,  Ralph,  look  up 
at  the  stars.     Those  are  our  stars,  every  one  of  them." 


40  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

Kalph  laughed,  as  he  led  her  into  the  house. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  she  insisted,  "we  own  all  the  way 
down,  and  all  the  way  up.'' 

"Now  then,"  said  Miriam,  when  they  had  closed  the 
door  behind  them,  "how  shall  we  explore  the  house? 
Shall  we  each  take  a  lamp,  or  will  candles  be  better  ?  " 

"  Little  girl ! "  exclaimed  her  brother,  "  I  had  no  idea 
that  you  were  such  a  bunch  of  watch  springs.  It  is 
nearly  nine  o'clock,  and  after  the  day's  work  that  you 
have  done,  it  is  time  you  were  in  bed.  House  exploring 
can  be  done  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  indeed.  Miss,"  said  Phoebe,  who  stood  by, 
anxious  to  shut  up  the  house  and  retire  to  her  own  domi- 
cile, "  and  I  will  go  up  into  your  room  with  you  and 
show  you  about  things." 

Half  an  hour  after  this,  Miriam  came  out  of  her  bed- 
room, holding  a  bit  of  lighted  candle  in  her  hand.  She 
was  dressed,  with  the  exception  of  her  shoes.  Softly 
she  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  which  led  to  the 
floor  above. 

"  They  are  partly  my  stairs,"  she  said  to  herself,  as 
she  paused  for  a  moment  at  the  bottom  of  the  step. 
"  Ralph  told  me  that  he  considered  the  place  as  much 
mine  as  his,  and  I  have  a  right  to  go  up.  I  cannot  go  to 
sleep  without  seeing  what  is  up  here.  I  never  imagined 
such  a  third  floor  as  this  one." 

In  less  than  a  minute,  Miriam  was  slowly  creeping 
along  the  next  floor  of  the  house,  which  was  indeed  an 
odd  one.  For  it  was  nothing  more  than  a  gallery, 
broader  at  the  ends  than  the  sides,  with  a  railed  open 


THE  HOME  41 

space,  through  which  one  could  look  down  to  the  floor 
below.  Some  of  the  doors  were  open  and  she  peeped 
into  the  rooms,  but  saw  nothing  which  induced  her  to 
enter  them.  Having  made  the  circuit  of  the  gallery,  she 
reached  a  narrow  staircase  which  wound  still  higher 
upward. 

"  I  must  go  up,"  she  said ;  "  I  cannot  help  it." 

Arrived  at  the  top  of  these  stairs,  Miriam  held  up  her 
candle  and  looked  about  her.  She  was  in  a  great,  wide, 
magnificent,  glorious  garret!  Her  soul  swelled.  To 
own  such  a  garret  was  almost  too  much  joy !  It  was  the 
realization  of  a  thousand  dreams. 

Slowly  advancing,  she  beheld  fascinations  on  every 
side.  Here  were  old  trunks,  doubtless  filled  with  family 
antiquities ;  there  was  a  door  fastened  with  a  chain  and 
a  padlock  —  there  must  be  a  key  to  that,  or  the  lock 
could  be  broken ;  in  the  dim  light  at  the  other  end  of  the 
garret,  she  could  see  what  appeared  to  be  a  piled-up  col- 
lection of  boxes,  chests,  cases,  little  and  big,  and  all  sorts 
of  old-fashioned  articles  of  use  and  ornament,  doubtless 
every  one  of  them  a  treasure.  A  long  musket,  its  stock 
upon  the  floor,  reclined  against  a  little  trunk  covered 
with  horse-hair,  from  under  the  lid  of  which  protruded 
the  ends  of  some  dusty  folded  papers. 

"  Oh,  how  I  wish  Ealph  were  here,  and  that  we  had  a 
lamp.  I  could  spend  the  night  here,  looking  at  every- 
thing ;  but  I  can't  do  it  now  with  this  little  candle  end." 

At  her  feet  was  a  wooden  box,  the  lid  of  which  was 
evidently  unfastened,  for  it  lay  at  an  angle  across  the 
top. 


42  THE   GIEL  AT  COBHURST 

"  I  will  look  into  this  one  box/'  she  said,  "  and  then  I 
will  go  down." 

She  knelt  down,  and  with  the  candle  in  her  right 
hand,  pushed  aside  the  lid  with  her  left.  From  the  box 
there  grinned  at  her  a  human  skull,  surrounded  by  its 
bones.     She  started  back. 

"  Uncle  Butterwood,"  she  gasped  and  tried  to  rise,  but 
her  strength  and  senses  left  her,  and  she  fell  over  uncon- 
scious, upon  the  floor.  The  candle  dropped  from  her 
hand,  and,  fortunately,  went  out. 


CHAPTER  V 


PANNEYOPATHY 


About  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning,  Mike,  in  his  little 
wagon,  rattled  up  to  the  door  of  Dr.  Tolbridge. 

The  doctor  was  not  at  home,  but  his  wife  came  out. 

"  That  young  girl ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  Why,  what  can 
be  the  matter  with  her  ?  " 

"  I  dunno,  ma'am,"  answered  Mike.  ^^  Phoebe  told  me 
just  as  the  wagon  got  there  with  the  boxes  an'  trunks, 
an'  nobody  but  me  to  help  the  man  upstairs  with  'em, 
an'  said  I  must  get  away  to  the  doctor's  jes'  as  fast  as  I 
could  drive.  She  said  somethin'  about  her  sleepin'  in 
the  garret  and  ketchin'  cold,  but  she  wouldn't  let  me 
stop  to  ax  no  questions.  She  said  the  doctor  was  wanted 
straight  off." 

"  I  am  very  giorry,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "  that  he  is 


PANNBYOPATHY  43 

not  here,  but  he  said  he  was  going  to  stop  and  see  Miss 
Panney.  I  can't  tell  you  any  other  place  to  which  he 
was  going.  If  you  drive  back  by  the  Witton  road,  you 
may  find  him,  or,  if  he  has  not  yet  arrived,  it  might  be 
well  to  wait  for  him/' 

Arrived  at  the  Witton  house,  Mike  saw  Miss  Panney, 
wrapped  in  a  heavy  shawl  and  wearing  a  hood,  taking 
her  morning  exercise  on  the  piazza. 

"  They  want  the  doctor  already ! "  she  exclaimed  in 
answer  to  Mike's  inquiries.  "  Who  could  have  thought 
that  ?  And  he  left  here  nearly  half  an  hour  ago.  His 
wife  will  send  him  when  he  gets  home,  but  there  is  no 
knowing  when  that  will  be.  However,  she  must  have 
somebody  to  attend  to  her.  Mike,  I  will  go  myself.  I 
will  go  with  you  in  your  wagon.    Wait  one  minute." 

Into  the  house  popped  Miss  Panney,  and  in  a  very 
short  time  returned,  carrying  with  her  an  umbrella  and 
a  large  reticule  made  of  brown  plush,  and  adorned  with 
her  monogram  in  yellow.  One  of  the  Witton  girls  came 
with  her,  and  assisted  her  to  the  seat,  by  the  side  of 
Mike. 

*^  Now  then,"  said  she,  "  get  along  as  fast  as  you  can. 
I  shall  not  mind  the  jolts." 

"  Phoebe,"  said  Miss  Panney,  as  she  entered  the  Cob- 
hurst  door,  "  it's  a  long  time  since  I  have  seen  you,  and 
I  have  not  been  in  this  house  for  eight  years.  I  hope 
you  will  be  able  to  tell  me  something  about  this  sudden 
sickness,  for  Mike  is  as  stupid  as  a  stone  post,  and 
knows  nothing  at  all." 

"Now,  Miss  Panney,"  said    Phoebe,  speaking  very 


44  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

earnestly,  but  in  a  low  voice,  "I  can't  say  that  I  can 
really  give  you  the  true  head  and  tail  of  it,  for  it's 
mighty  hard  to  find  out  what  did  happen  to  that  young 
gal.  All  I  know  is  that  she  didn't  come  down  to  break- 
fast, and  that  Mr.  Haverley  went  up  to  her  room  hisself, 
and  he  knocked  and  he  knocked,  and  then  he  pushed 
the  door  open  and  went  in,  and,  bless  my  soul,  Miss 
Panney,  she  wasn't  there.  Then  he  hollered,  and  me 
and  him,  we  sarched  and  sarched  the  house.  He  went 
up  into  the  garret  by  hisself,  for  you  may  be  sure  I 
wouldn't  go  there,  but  he  was  just  wild,  and  didn't  care 
where  he  went,  and  there  he  found  her  dead  asleep  on 
the  floor,  and  a  livin'  skeleton  a  sittin'  watchin'  her." 

"  Nonsense ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Panney ;  "  he  never  told 
you  that." 

"  That's  the  pint  of  what  I  got  out  of  him,  and  you 
know.  Miss  Panney,  that  that  garret's  hanted." 

Miss  Panney  wasted  no  words  in  attempting  to  dis- 
prove this  assertion. 

"  He  found  her  asleep  on  the  floor  ?  "  said  she. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Panney,"  answered  Phoebe,  "  dead  asleep, 
or  more  likely,  to  my  mind,  in  a  dead  faint,  among  all 
the  drafts  and  chills  of  that  garret,  and  in  her  stockin' 
feet.  She  had  tuk  up  a  candle  with  her,  but  I  'spect 
the  skeleton  blowed  it  out.  And  now  she's  got  an  awful 
cold,  so  she  can  scarcely  breathe,  and  a  fever  hot  enough 
to  roast  an  egg." 

At  this  moment  Ralph  appeared  in  the  hall.  The 
visitor  immediately  went  up  to  him. 

"Mr.  Haverley,  I  suppose.     I  am  Miss  Panney.     I  am 


tANNEYOPATHY  46 

a  neighbor,  and  I  came  to  see  if  I  could  do  anything  for 
your  sister  before  the  doctor  arrives.  I  am  a  good  nurse, 
and  know  all  about  sicknesses ; "  and  she  explained  why 
she  had  come  and  the  doctor  had  not. 

When  Miriam  turned  her  head  and  saw  the  black  eyes 
of  Miss  Panney  gazing  down  upon  her,  she  pushed  her- 
self back  in  the  bed,  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  Are  you  his  wife  ?  " 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "I  wouldn't  marry 
him  for  a  thousand  pounds.  I  am  your  nurse.  I  am 
going  to  give  you  something  nice  to  make  you  feel  bet- 
ter. Put  your  hand  in  mine.  There,  that  will  do.  Keep 
yourself  covered  up,  even  if  you  are  a  little  warm,  and  I 
will  come  back  presently  with  the  nicest  kind  of  a  cup 
of  tea." 

"  It's  a  cold  and  a  fever,"  she  said  to  Ealph,  outside 
the  chamber  door.  "  The  commonest  thing  in  the  world. 
But  I'll  make  her  a  hot  drink  that  will  do  her  more  good 
than  anything  else  that  could  be  given  her,  and  when  the 
doctor  comes,  he'll  tell  you  so.  He  knows  me,  and  what 
I  can  do  for  sick  people.  I  brought  everything  that's 
needed  in  my  bag,  and  I  am  going  down  to  the  kitchen 
myself.  But  how  in  the  world  did  she  come  to  stay  on 
the  garret  floor  all  night  ?  She  couldn't  huve  been  in  a 
swoon  all  that  time." 

"  No,"  answered  Balph ;  "  she  told  me  she  came  to  her 
senses,  she  didn't  know  when,  but  that  everything  was 
pitch  dark  about  her,  and  feeling  dreadfully  tired  and 
weak,  she  put  her  head  down  on  her  arm,  and  tried  to 
think  why  she  was  lying  on  such  a  hard  floor,  and  then 


46  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

she  must  have  dropped  into  the  heavy  sleep  in  which  I 
found  her.  She  was  tired  out  with  her  journey  and 
the  excitement.  Do  you  think  she  is  in  danger,  Miss 
Panney?" 

"Don't  believe  it,"  said  the  old  lady.  "She  looks 
strong,  and  these  young  things  get  well  before  you 
know  it." 

"Now,  my  young  lady,"  said  Miss  Panney,  as  she 
stood  by  Miriam's  bedside,  with  a  steaming  bowl,  "  you 
may  drink  the  whole  of  this,  but  you  mustn't  ask  me  for 
any  more,  and  then  you  may  go  to  sleep,  and  to-morrow 
morning  you  can  get  .up  and  skip  around  and  see  what 
sort  of  a  place  Cobhurst  is  by  daylight." 

"  I  can't  wait  until  to-morrow  for  that,"  said  Miriam, 
"  and  is  that  tea  or  medicine  ?  " 

"  It's  both,  my  dear ;  sit  up  and  drink  it  off." 

Miriam  still  eyed  the  bowl.  "Is  it  homoeopathic  or 
allopathic?"  she  asked. 

"Neither  the  one  or  the  other,"  was  the  discreet  reply; 
"  it  is  Panney opathic,  and  just  the  thing  for  a  girl  who 
wants  to  get  out  of  bed  as  soon  as  she  can." 

Miriam  looked  full  into  the  bright  black  eyes,  and 
then  took  the  bowl,  and  drank  every  drop  of  the 
contents. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.  "  It  is  perfectly  horrid,  but  I 
must  get  up." 

"  Now  you  take  a  good  long  nap,  and  then  I  hope  you 
will  feel  quite  able  to  go  down  and  begin  to  keep  house 
for  your  brother." 

"  The  first  thing  to  do,"  said  Miriam,  as  Miss  Panney 


PANNEYOPATHY  47 

carefully  adjusted  the  bedclothes  about  her  shoulders, 
"  is  to  see  what  sort  a  house  we  have  got,  and  then  I  will 
know  how  I  am  to  keep  it." 

When  her  young  patient  had  dropped  asleep,  Miss 
Panney  went  downstairs.  In  the  lower  hall  she  found 
Ealph  walking  up  and  down. 

"  There  is  no  earthly  need  of  your  worrying  yourself 
about  your  sister.  I  am  sure  the  doctor  would  say  she  is 
in  no  danger  at  all,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  And  now,  if 
you  don't  mind,  I  would  like  very  much  to  go  up  into 
the  garret  and  see  what  frightened  your  sister." 

"  It  was  apparently  a  box  of  human  bones,"  he  said, 
"  but  I  barely  glanced  at  it.  You  are  perfectly  welcome 
to  go  up  and  examine." 

It  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  Miss  Panney  came 
down  from  the  garret,  laughing. 

"I  studied  anatomy  on  those  bones,"  she  said.  "Every 
one  of  them  is  marked  in  ink  with  its  name.  I  had  for- 
gotten all  about  them.  Mathias'  brother  Reuben  was  a 
scientific  man,  and  he  used  the  skeleton.  That  is,  he 
studied  all  sorts  of  things,  though  he  never  did  anything 
worth  notice.  I  took  a  look  round  the  garret,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  and  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  if  you  care  anything  for 
family  relics  and  records,  you  have  them  to  your  heart's 
content.  I  expect  there  are  things  up  there  that  have 
not  been  touched  for  fifty  years." 

"  I  should  suppose,"  said  Ealph,  "  that  the  servants  of 
the  house  would  have  had  some  curiosity  about  such 
objects,  if  no  one  else  had." 

Miss  Panney  laughed. 


48  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  There  hasn't  been  a  servant  in  that  garret  for  many 
a  long  year,"  said  she.  "  You  evidently  don't  know  that 
this  house  is  considered  haunted,  particularly  the  gar- 
ret; and  I  suppose  that  box  of  bones  had  a  good  deal 
to  do  with  the  notion." 

"  Well,"  said  Ealph,  "  no  doubt  the  ghosts  have  been 
a  great  protection  to  our  family  treasures." 

"And  to  your  whole  house,"  said  the  old  lady; 
"watch-dogs  would  be  nothing  to  them." 

Miss  Panney  and  Kalph  ate  dinner  together.  The 
old  lady  would  not  leave  until  the  doctor  had  come; 
and  the  conversation  was  an  education  to  young  Hav- 
erley  in  regard  to  the  Butterwood  family  and  the  Thor- 
bury  neighborhood.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  meal, 
Phoebe  came  into  the  room. 

"  I  went  upstairs  to  see  how  she  was  gettin'  on,  sir,"  she 
said ;  "  an'  she  was  awake,  an'  she  made  me  get  a  pencil 
an'  paper  out  of  her  bag,  an'  she  sent  you  this  note." 

On  a  half-sheet  of  note-paper,  he  read  the  following: 
"Dear  Ralph,  I  went  upstairs  and  looked  at  the  third 
floor  and  a  good  deal  of  the  garret,  without  you  being 
with  me.  I  really  want  to  be  perfectly  fair,  and  so 
you  must  not  stop  altogether  from  looking  at  things 
until  I  am  able  to  go  with  you.  I  think  good  things 
to  look  at  by  yourself  would  be  stables  and  barnyards, 
and  the  lower  part  of  barns.  Please  do  not  go  into 
haylofts,  nor  into  the  chicken-yard,  if  there  is  one. 
You  might  keep  your  eyes  on  the  ground  until  you  get 
to  these  places  and  then  look  up.  If  there  are  horses 
and  cows,  don't  tell  me  anything  about  them  when  you 


see  me.  Don't  tell  me  anything.  I  think  I  shall  be 
well  to-morrow,  perhaps  to-night.     Miriam." 

Ealph  laughed  heartily,  and  read  the  note  aloud. 

"I  should  say,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "that  that  girl 
has  a  good  deal  more  conscience  than  fever.  She  ought 
to  have  slept  longer,  but  as  she  is  awake  I  will  go  up 
and  take  a  look  at  her;  while  you  can  blindfold  your- 
self, if  you  like,  and  go  out  to  the  barns." 

The  doctor  did  not  arrive  until  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  it  was  nearly  half  an  hour  after  he  had  gone  up  to 
his  patient  before  he  reported  to  Ralph. 

"  She  is  all  right,"  said  he,  "  but  I  am  not." 

The  young  man  looked  puzzled. 

"  By  which  I  mean,"  continued  the  other,  "  that  Miss 
Panney's  concoction  and  the  girl's  vigorous  young  nature 
have  thrown  off  the  effects  of  her  nap  in  the  haunted 
garret,  and  that  I  am  an  allopathist,  whereas  I  ought 
to  be  a  homoeopathist.  The  young  lady  and  I  have  had 
a  long  conversation  on  that  subject  and  others.  I  find 
that  she  is  a  Nonconformist." 

"What?"  asked  Ralph. 

"I  use  the  word  in  its  political  and  social,  as  well 
as  its  religious  meaning.  That  is  a  sister  worth  taking 
care  of,  sir.  Lock  her  up  in  her  room,  if  she  inclines 
to  any  more  midnight  wanderings." 

"  And  now,  having  finished  with  the  young  patient," 
said  Miss  Panney,  who  was  waiting  with  her  bonnet 
and  shawl  on,  "you  can  take  up  an  old  one,  and  I 
will  get  you  to  drive  me  home  on  your  way  back  to 
Thorbury." 


60  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

The  doctor  had  been  very  much  interested  in  Miriam, 
and  talked  about  her  to  Miss  Panney  as  he  drove  her 
to  the  Witton  house,  which,  by  the  way,  was  a  mile 
and  a  half  out  of  his  direct  road.  The  old  lady  lis- 
tened with  interest,  but  did  not  wish  to  listen  very 
much;  she  wished  to  talk  of  Ealph. 

"  I  like  him,"  she  said ;  "  he  has  pluck.  I  have  had 
a  good  deal  of  talk  with  him,  and  he  told  me  frankly 
that  he  could  not  afford  to  put  money  into  the  place 
and  farm  it  as  it  ought  to  be  farmed.  But  he  was  born 
a  country  man,  and  he  has  the  heart  of  a  country  man ; 
and  he  is  going  to  see  if  he  can  make  a  living  out  of 
it  for  himself  and  his  sister." 

"  Which  may  result,"  said  the  doctor,  "  in  his  becom- 
ing a  mere  farm  laborer  and  putting  an  end  to  his 
sister's  education." 

"  Nonsense !  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady.  "  Young  fel- 
lows—  college  men  —  go  out  on  ranches  in  the  West 
and  do  that  sort  of  thing,  and  it  lowers  them  in  no- 
body's estimation.  Let  young  Haverley  call  his  farm 
a  ranch  and  rough  it.  It  would  be  the  same  thing. 
Pve  backed  him  up  strongly.  It's  a  manly  choice  of  a 
manly  life.  As  for  his  sister,  she  has  been  so  long  at 
school  that  it  will  do  her  more  good  to  stop  than  to 
go  on." 

"  It  will  be  hard  scratching,"  said  the  doctor,  "  to  get 
a  living  out  of  Cobhurst,  and  I  hope  these  young  people 
will  not  come  to  grief  while  they  are  making  the 
experiment." 

Miss  Panney  smiled  without  looking  at  her  companion. 


PANNBYOPATHY  61 

"  Don^t  be  afraid  of  that,"  she  said  presently ;  "  I  have 
pretty  good  reason  to  think  that  he  will  get  on  well 
enough." 

That  evening  Miriam  sat  up  in  bed  with  a  shawl  about 
her  shoulders  and  discoursed  to  her  brother. 

"Now,  Ealph,"  said  she,  "you  must  have  seen  a  lot 
of  things  about  our  place,  because,  when  I  came  to  think 
of  it,  it  was  plain  enough  that  you  couldn't  help  it.  I 
am  crazy  to  see  what  you  saw,  but  you  mustn't  tell  me 
anything  except  what  I  ask  you.  Please  be  particular 
about  that." 

"Go  on,"  said  Ralph.  "You  shall  not  have  a  word 
more  or  less  than  you  want." 

"  Well,  then,  is  your  bed  comfortable  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  he  answered. 

"  And  have  you  pillows  enough  ?  " 

"  More  than  I  want,"  said  Ralph. 

"And  are  the  doors  and  windows  all  fastened  and 
locked  downstairs?" 

He  laughed.  "You  needn't  bother  yourself  about 
that  sort  of  thing.     I  will  attend  to  the  locking  up." 

She  slightly  knitted  her  brows  in  reflection.  "Now 
then,  Ralph,"  said  she,  "  I  am  coming  to  it,  and  mind, 
not  a  word  more  than  I  ask  for.     Have  we  any  horses  ?  " 

"  We  have,"  he  replied. 

"  How  many  ?  " 

"Four." 

Miriam  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  at  her  brother 
with  sparkling  eyes. 

"  Oh ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  four  horses ! " 


62  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  Two  of  them,"  he  began,  but  she  stopped  him  in  an 
instant. 

"Don't  tell  me  another  thing,"  she  cried;  "I  don't 
want  to  know  what  color  they  are,  or  anything  about 
them.  To-morrow  I  shall  see  them  for  myself.  Oh, 
Ralph,  isn't  it  perfectly  wonderful  that  we  should  have 
four  horses  ?  I  can't  stand  anything  more  just  now,  so 
please  kiss  me  good-night." 

About  an  hour  afterwards  Ralph  was  awakened  by  a 
knock  at  his  door. 

"Who  is  there?"  he  cried. 

The  door  opened  a  very  little  way. 

"Ralph,"  said  Miriam,  through  the  crack,  "is  there 
one  of  our  horses  which  can  be  ridden  by  a  lady  ?  " 

Ralph's  first  impulse  was  to  throw  a  pillow  at  the 
door,  but  he  remembered  that  sisters  were  different  from 
fellows  at  school. 

"  Can't  say  anything  about  that  until  we  try,"  said  he ; 
"  and  now,  Miriam,  please  go  to  bed  and  to  sleep." 

Miriam  shut  the  door  and  went  away,  but  in  her 
dreams  she  rode  a  prancing  charger  into  Miss  Stone's 
schoolyard,  and  afterwards  drove  all  the  girls  in  a 
tally-ho. 

CHAPTER  VI 

MRS.    TOLBRIDGe's    CALLERS 

The  next  day  was  a  very  fine  one,  and  as  the  roads 
were  now  good,  and  the  air  mild,  Miss  Panney  thought 
it  was  quite  time  that  she  should  begin  to  go  about  and 


MRS.   TOLBRIDGE's   CALLERS  63 

see  her  friends  without  depending  on  the  vehicles  of 
other  people,  so  she  ordered  her  little  phaeton  and  her 
old  roan  mare,  and  drove  herself  to  Thorbury  to  see 
Mrs.  Tolbridge. 

"  The  doctor  tells  me,"  said  that  good  lady,  "  that  you 
take  great  interest  in  those  young  people  at  Cobhurst." 

"  Indeed  I  do,''  said  Miss  Panney,  sitting  up  as  straight 
in  her  easy  chair  as  if  it  had  been  a  wooden  bench  with 
no  back ;  "  I  have  been  thinking  about  him  all  the  morn- 
ing.    He  ought  to  be  married." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  laughed. 

"  Dear  me.  Miss  Panney,"  said  she,  "  it  is  too  soon  to 
begin  thinking  of  a  wife  for  the  poor  fellow.  He  has 
not  had  time  to  feel  himself  at  home." 

"  My  motto  is  that  it  is  never  too  soon  to  begin,  but  we 
won't  talk  about  that.  Kitty,  you  are  the  worst  match- 
maker I  ever  saw." 

"I  think  I  made  a  pretty  good  match  for  myself," 
said  the  other. 

"No,  you  didn't.  The  doctor  made  that,  and  I  helped. 
You  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  preliminary  work, 
which  is  really  the  most  important." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  smiled.  "  I  am  sure  T  am  very  much 
obliged,"  she  said. 

"You  ought  to  be.  And  now  while  we  are  on  the 
subject,  let  me  ask  you :  Have  you  a  new  cook?  " 

"  I  have,"  replied  the  other,  "  but  she  is  worse  than 
the  last  one." 

Miss  Panney  rose  to  her  feet,  and  walked  across  the 
room. 


64  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  Kitty  Tolbridge ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  this  is  too  bad. 
You're  trifling  with  the  greatest  treasure  a  woman  can 
have  on  this  earth  —  the  life  of  a  good  husband." 

"But  what  am  I  to  do?"  asked  Mrs.  Tolbridge.  "I 
have  tried  everywhere,  and  I  can  get  no  one  better." 

"  Everywhere,"  repeated  Miss  Panney.  "  You  mean 
everywhere  in  Thorbury.  You  oughtn't  to  expect  to  get 
a  decent  cook  in  this  little  town.  You  should  go  to  the 
city  and  get  one.  What  you  want  is  to  keep  the  doctor 
well,  no  matter  what  it  costs.  He  doesn't  look  well, 
and  I  don't  see  how  he  can  be  well,  on  the  kind  of  cook- 
ing you  can  get  in  Thorbury." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  flushed  a  little. 

"I  am  sure,"  she  said,  "that  Thorbury  people,  for  gener- 
ations and  generations,  have  lived  on  Thorbury  cooking, 
and  they  have  been  just  as  healthy  as  any  other  people." 

"Ah,  Kitty,  Kitty!"  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  "you 
forget  how  things  have  changed.  In  times  gone  by  the 
ladies  of  the  household  superintended  all  the  cooking, 
and  did  a  good  deal  of  it  besides;  and  they  brought 
something  into  the  kitchen  that  seldom  gets  into  it 
now,  and  that  is  brains.  A  cook  with  a  complete  set 
of  brains  might  be  pretty  hard  to  get,  and  would  cost  a 
good  deal  of  money.  But  it  is  your  duty,  Kitty,  to  get 
as  good  a  one  as  you  can.  If  she  has  only  a  tea-cup  full 
of  brains,  it  will  be  better  than  none  at  all.  Don't  mind 
the  cost.  If  you  have  to  do  it,  spend  more  on  cooking, 
and  less  on  raw  material." 

This  was  all  Miss  Panney  had  to  say  on  the  subject, 
and  shortly  she  departed. 


MRS.   TOLBRIDGE'S   CALLERS  56 

After  brief  stops  at  the  post-office  and  one  or  two 
shops,  she  drove  to  the  abode  of  the  Bannisters.  Miss 
Panney  tied  her  roan  to  the  hitching-post  by  the  side- 
walk, and  went  up  the  smooth  gravel  path  to  the  hand- 
some old  house,  which  she  had  so  often  visited,  to  confer 
on  her  own  affairs  and  those  of  the  world  at  large  with 
the  father  and  the  grandfather  of  the  present  Bannister, 
attorney-at-law. 

She  and  the  house  were  all  that  were  left  of  those  old 
days.  Even  the  widow  was  the  second  wife,  who  had 
come  into  the  family  while  Miss  Panney  was  away  from 
Thorbury. 

Mrs.  Bannister  was  not  at  home,  but  Miss  Dora  was, 
and  that  entirely  satisfied  the  visitor.  When  the  bloom- 
ing daughter  of  the  house  came  hurrying  into  the  parlor. 
Miss  Panney,  who  had  previously  raised  two  of  the 
window  shades,  gazed  at  her  earnestly  as  she  saluted 
her,  and  nodded  her  head  approvingly.  Then  the  two 
sat  down  to  talk. 

They  talked  of  several  things,  and  very  soon  of  the 
Cobhurst  people. 

"Oh,  have  you  seen  them?"  exclaimed  Dora.  "I 
have,  but  only  for  a  minute  at  the  station,  and  then 
I  didn't  know  who  they  were,  though  I  was  told  after- 
ward.    They  seemed  to  be  very  nice." 

"  They  are,"  said  Miss  Panney.  "  The  girl  is  bright, 
and  young  Mr.  Haverley  is  an  exceedingly  agreeable 
gentleman,  just  the  sort  of  man  who  should  be  the 
owner  of  Cobhurst.  He  is  handsome,  well  educated,  and 
spirited.    I  saw  a  good  deal  of  him,  for  I  spent  the  best 


56  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

part  of  yesterday  there.  I  should  say  that  your  brother 
would  find  him  a  most  congenial  neighbor.  There  are 
so  few  young  men  hereabout  who  are  worth  anything." 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  Dora,  with  a  degree  of  earnest- 
ness, "  and  I  know  Herbert  will  be  delighted.  I  am  sure 
he  would  call  if  he  were  here,  but  he  is  away,  and 
doesn't  expect  to  be  back  for  a  week." 

It  crossed  Miss  Panney's  mind  that  a  week's  delay  in 
a  matter  of  this  sort  would  not  be  considered  a  breach  of 
courtesy,  but  she  did  not  say  so. 

"  It  would  be  friendly  if  Mrs.  Bannister  and  you  were 
to  call  on  the  sister,  before  long,"  she  remarked. 

"  Of  course  we  will  do  it,"  said  Dora,  with  animation. 
"  I  should  think  a  young  lady  would  be  dreadfully  lonely 
in  that  great  house,  at  least  at  first,  and  perhaps  we  can 
do  something  for  her." 

Although  Miss  Panney  had  seen  Miriam  only  in  bed, 
she  had  a  strong  conviction  that  she  was  not  yet  a  young 
lady,  but  this,  like  the  other  reflection,  was  not  put  into 
words. 

It  was  not  noon  when  Miss  Panney  left  the  Bannister 
house,  and  the  mind  of  Miss  Dora,  which  had  been  re- 
newing itself  within  her  with  all  the  vigor  and  freshness 
which  Dr.  Tolbridge  had  predicted,  was  at  a  loss  how  to 
occupy  itself  until  dinner-time,  which,  with  the  Bannis- 
ters and  most  of  the  gentlefolk  of  Thorbury,  was  at  two 
o'clock. 

Dora  put  on  her  prettiest  hat  and  her  wrap  and  went 
out.  She  wanted  to  call  on  somebody  and  to  talk,  and 
suddenly  it  struck  her  that  she  would  go  and  inquire 


67 


about  the  kitten  she  had  given  Dr.  Tolbridge,  and  carry 
it  a  fresh  ribbon.  She  bought  the  ribbon,  and  found 
Mrs.  Tolbridge  and  the  kitten  at  home. 

When  the  ornament  had  been  properly  adjusted,  Miss 
Dora  put  the  kitten  upon  the  floor  and  remarked: 
"  Now  there  is  some  comfort  in  doing  a  thing  like  that 
for  Dr.  Tolbridge,  because  he  will  be  sure  to  notice  it. 
There  are  some  gentlemen  who  hardly  ever  notice  things 
you  do  for  them.     Herbert  is  often  that  way." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  who  had  turned 
toward  a  desk  at  which  she  had  been  writing.  "The 
doctor  is  a  man  I  can  recommend,  and  I  hope  you  may 
get  a  husband  as  good  as  he  is.  And  by  the  way,  if  you 
ever  do  get  such  a  one,  I  also  hope  you  will  be  able  to 
find  some  one  who  will  cook  his  meals  properly.  I  find 
that  I  cannot  do  that  in  Thorbury,  and  I  am  going  to  try 
to  get  one  in  the  city.  I  am  now  writing  an  advertise- 
ment which  I  shall  put  into  several  of  the  papers,  and 
day  after  to-morrow  I  shall  go  down  to  see  the  people 
who  answer." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  fun,"  cried  Dora ;  "  I  wish  I  could  go 
with  you." 

"And  why  not?" 

"  Why  not,  indeed  ?  "  replied  the  young  lady,  and  th© 
matter  was  immediately  arranged. 

"  And  while  we  are  talking  about  servants,"  said  Dora, 
whose  ebullient  mind  now  found  a  chance  to  bring  in  the 
subject  which  was  most  prominent  within  it,  "  I  should 
think  that  the  new  people  at  Cobhurst  would  find  it 
troublespmie  tp,  get  the  right  §ort  of  seyvio^," 


58  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHUEST 

"Perhaps  so/'  replied  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "although  1 
have  a  fancy  they  are  going  to  have  a  very  independent 
household,  at  least  for  a  time.  It  is  a  great  pity  that 
the  young  girl  was  taken  sick  just  as  she  entered  into 
her  new  home." 

"  Sick !  "  exclaimed  Dora ;  "  I  never  heard  of  that." 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  anything  serious,"  said  the  other,  her 
thoughts  turning  to  the  advertisement,  which  she  wished 
to  get  into  the  post-office  before  dinner,  "  and  I  have  no 
doubt  she  is  quite  well  now,  but  still  it  was  a  pity." 

"  Indeed  it  was ! "  exclaimed  Dora,  in  tones  of  the 
most  earnest  sympathy  and  commiseration.  "  It  was  the 
greatest  kind  of  a  pity,  and  I  think  I  really  ought  to  call 
on  her  very  soon."  And  in  this  mood  she  went  home  to 
dinner. 


CHAPTER  VII 

DOBA   BANNISTER  TAKES    TIME   AND   A  MARE  BY  THE 
FORELOCK 

Very  early  that  afternoon  Miss  Dora  Bannister  was 
driven  to  Cobhurst  to  call  upon  the  young  lady  who  had 
been  taken  sick,  and  who  ought  not  to  be  neglected  by 
the  ladies  of  Thorbury.  Dora  had  asked  her  stepmother 
to  accompany  her,  but  as  that  good  lady  seldom  made 
calls,  and  disliked  long  drives,  and  could  not  see  why  it 
was  at  all  necessary  for  her  to  go,  Dora  went  alone. 

When  the  open  carriage  with  its  pair  of  handsome 
grays  had  bumped  over  the  rough  entrance  to  the  Cob- 


DORA  BANNISTER  69 

hurst  estate,  and  had  drawn  up  to  the  front  of  the  house. 
Miss  Dora  skipped  lightly  out,  and  rang  the  door-bell. 
She  rang  twice,  and  as  no  one  came,  and  as  the  front 
door  was  wide  open,  she  stepped  inside  to  see  if  she 
could  find  any  one.  She  had  never  been  in  that  great 
wide  hall  before,  and  she  was  delighted  with  it,  although 
it  appeared  to  be  in  some  disorder.  Two  boxes  and  a 
trunk  were  still  standing  where  they  had  been  placed 
when  they  were  brought  from  the  station.  She  looked 
through  the  open  door  of  the  parlor,  but  there  was  no  one 
there,  and  then  she  knocked  on  the  door  of  a  closed  room. 

No  answer  came,  and  she  went  to  the  back  door  of  the 
long  hall  and  looked  out,  but  not  a  soul  could  she  see. 
This  was  discouraging,  but  she  was  not  a  girl  who  would 
willingly  turn  back,  after  having  set  out  on  an  errand  of 
mercy.  There  was  a  door  which  seemed  to  lead  to  the 
basement,  and  on  this  she  knocked,  but  to  no  purpose. 

"  This  is  an  awfully  funny  house,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  If  I  could  see  any  stairs,  I  might  go  up  a  little  way 
and  call.  Surely  there  must  be  somebody  alive  some' 
where."  Then  the  thought  suddenly  came  into  her 
mind  that  perhaps  want  of  life  in  the  particular  person 
she  had  come  to  see  might  be  the  reason  of  this  dread- 
ful stillness  and  desertion,  and  without  a  moment's 
hesitation  she  stepped  out  of  the  back  door  into  the 
open  air.  She  could  not  stay  in  that  house  another 
second  until  she  knew.  Surely  there  must  be  some  one 
on  the  place  who  could  tell  her  what  had  happened. 

Approaching  the  gardener's  house,  she  met  Phoebe 
just  coming  out  of  the  door. 


60  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  Bless  my  soul ! "  exclaimed  the  woman  of  color.  "  Is 
that  you,  Miss  Dora  ?  Mike  hollered  to  me  that  a  kir- 
ridge  had  come,  and  I  was  a-hurryin'  up  to  the  house  to 
see  who  it  was." 

"  I  came  to  call  on  Miss  Haverley,"  said  Dora.  "  How 
is  she,  Phoebe,  and  can  I  see  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she's  well  enough,  and  you  can  see  her  if  you 
can  find  her ;  but  to  save  my  soul.  Miss  Dora,  I  couldn't 
tell  you  where  she  is  at  this  minute.  You  never  did  in 
all  your  life  see  anybody  like  that  Miss  Miriam  is.  Why, 
true  as  I  speak,  the  very  sparrers  in  the  trees  isn't  as  wild 
as  she  is.  From  sunrise  this  morning  she  has  been  on  the 
steady  go.  You'd  think,  to  see  her,  that  the  hens  and 
the  cows  and  the  colts  and  even  the  old  apple  trees  was 
all  silver  and  gold  and  diamonds  in  her  eyes,  she  takes 
on  so  about  'em.  I  can't  keep  up  with  her,  I  can't.  The 
last  time  I  see  her,  she  was  goin'  into  the  barn,  and  I 
reckon  she's  thar  yit,  huntin'  hens'  nests.  If  you  like, 
I'll  go  look  for  her,  Miss  Dora." 

Phoebe  had  often  worked  for  the  Bannister  family, 
and  Dora  knew  her  to  be  one  of  the  slowest  movers 
among  mankind;  besides,  the  idea  of  calling  upon  a 
young  lady  who  was  engaged  in  looking  for  hens'  nests 
in  a  barn  was  an  exceedingly  attractive  one.  It  had  not 
been  long  since  Dora  had  taken  much  delight  in  that  sort 
of  thing  herself. 

"  You  needn't  trouble  yourself,  Phoebe,"  she  said ;  "  I 
will  walk  over  to  the  barn.  I  would  a  great  deal  rather 
do  that  than  wait  in  the  house.  If  I  don't  see  her  there, 
I  will  come  back  and  leave  our  cards." 


DOHA  BANNISTER  61 

"  You  might  as  well  do  that,"  said  Phoebe,  laughing, 
"  for  if  she  isn't  thar,  she's  as  like  as  not  at  fhe  other 
end  of  the  farm  in  the  field  where  the  colts  is." 

The  Cobhurst  barn  was  an  unusual,  and,  indeed,  a  re- 
markable structure.  It  was  not  as  old  as  the  house, 
although  it  had  been  built  many  years  ago  by  Mathias 
Butterwood,  in  a  fashion  to  suit  his  own  ideas  of  what 
a  barn  should  be. 

It  was  an  enormous  structure,  a  great  deal  larger  than 
the  house,  and  built  of  stone.  It  stood  against  a  high 
bluff,  and  there  was  an  entrance  on  the  level  to  the 
vast  lower  story,  planned  to  accommodate  Mr.  Butter- 
wood's  herd  of  fine  cattle.  A  little  higher  up,  a  wide 
causeway,  supported  by  an  arch,  led  into  the  second 
story,  devoted  to  horses  and  all  kinds  of  vehicles,  and 
still  higher,  almost  on  a  level  with  the  house,  there  was 
a  road,  walled  on  each  side,  by  which  the  loaded  hay- 
wagons  could  be  driven  in  upon  the  great  third  floor  of 
the  barn. 

When  Dora  Bannister  reached  this  barn,  having  fol- 
lowed a  path  which  led  to  the  lower  story,  she  looked  in 
at  an  open  door,  and  received  the  impression  of  vast 
extent,  emptiness,  and  the  scent  of  hay.  She  entered, 
looking  about  from  side  to  side.  At  the  opposite  end  of 
the  great  room,  was  an  open  door  through  which  the  sun 
shone,  and  as  she  approached  it,  she  heard  a  voice  and 
the  cracking  of  cornstalks  outside. 

Standing  in  the  doorway,  she  looked  out,  and  saw  a 
large  barnyard,  the  ground  near  the  door  covered  with 
iresh  straw  which  seemed  to  have  been  recently  strewn 


62  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

there.  The  yard  beyond  was  a  neglected  and  bad-look- 
ing expanse,  into  which  no  young  lady  would  be  likely 
to  penetrate,  and  from  which  Dora  would  have  turned 
away  instantly,  had  she  not  seen,  crossing  it,  a  young 
man  and  a  horse. 

The  young  man  was  leading  the  horse  by  its  forelock, 
and  was  walking  in  a  sidewise  fashion,  with  his  back 
toward  Dora.  The  horse,  a  rough-looking  creature, 
seemed  reluctant  to  approach  the  barn,  and  its  leader 
frequently  spoke  to  it  encouragingly,  and  patted  its  neck, 
as  he  moved  on. 

This  young  man  was  tall  and  broad-shouldered.  He 
wore  a  light  soft  hat,  which  well  suited  his  somewhat 
curling  brown  hair.  A  corduroy  suit  and  high  top  boots, 
in  which  he  strode  fearlessly  through  the  debris  and  dirt 
of  the  yard,  gave  him,  in  Dora's  eyes,  a  manly  air,  and 
she  longed  for  him  to  turn  his  face  toward  her,  that  she 
might  speak  to  him,  and  ask  him  where  she  would  be 
apt  to  find  his  sister  —  for  of  course  this  must  be  Mr. 
Haverley. 

But  he  did  not  turn ;  instead  of  that  he  now  backed 
himself  toward  the  stable  door,  pulling  the  horse  after 
him.  Dora  was  pleased  to  stand  and  look  at  him ;  his 
movements  struck  her  as  athletic  and  graceful.  He 
was  now  so  near  that  she  felt  she  ought  to  make  her 
presence  known.  She  stepped  out  upon  the  fresh  straw, 
intending  to  move  a  little  out  of  his  way  and  then  accost 
him,  but  he  spoke  first. 

"  Good,"  he  said ;  "  don't  you  want  to  take  hold  of  this 
mare  by  the  forelock,  as  I  am  doing,  and  keep  her  here 


DORA  BANNISTER  63 

until  I  get  a  halter?"  And  as  lie  spoke  he  turned 
toward  Miss  Bannister. 

His  face  was  a  handsome  one,  fully  equal  in  quality 
to  his  height,  his  shoulders,  and  his  grace  of  movement. 
His  blue  eyes  opened  wide  at  the  sight  of  the  young 
lady  in  gray  hat  and  ostrich  plumes,  fashionable  driving 
costume  edged  with  fur,  for  the  spring  air  was  yet  cool, 
and  bright  silk  parasol,  for  the  spring  sun  was  beginning 
to  be  warm.     With  almost  a  stammer,  he  said  :  — 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I  thought  it  was  my  sister  I 
heard  behind  me." 

"  Oh,  it  doesn't  matter  in  the  least,"  said  Dora,  with 
a  charming  smile ;  "  I  am  Miss  Bannister.  I  live  in 
Thorbury,  and  I  came  to  call  on  your  sister.  Phoebe 
told  me  she  thought  she  was  out  here,  and  so  I  came 
to  look  for  her  myself.  A  barn  is  so  charming  to  me, 
especially  a  great  one  like  this,  that  I  would  rather 
make  a  call  in  it  than  in  the  house." 

"  I  will  go  and  look  for  her,"  said  Kalph.  "  She  can- 
not be  far  away."  And  then  he  glanced  at  the  horse,  as 
if  he  were  in  doubt  what  to  do  with  it  at  this  juncture. 

"Oh,  let  me  hold  your  horse,"  cried  Dora,  putting 
down  the  parasol  by  the  side  of  the  barn  and  approach- 
ing; "I  mean  while  you  go  and  get  its  halter.  I  am 
ever  so  fond  of  horses,  and  like  to  hold  them  and  feed 
them  and  pet  them.     Is  this  one  gentle  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  her,"  said  Ralph,  laughing, 
"  for  we  have  just  taken  possession  of  the  place,  and  are 
only  beginning  to  find  out  what  animals  we  own,  and 
what  they  axe  like.    This  old  mare  seems  gentle  enough, 


64  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUKST 

thougli  rather  obstinate..  I  have  just  brought  her  in 
out  of  the  fields,  where  she  has  been  grazing  ever  since 
the  season  opened." 

"  She  looks  like  a  very  good  horse,  indeed,"  said  Dora, 
patting  the  tangled  hair  on  the  creature's  neck. 

"I  brought  her  in,"  said  Ealph,  "thinking  I  might 
rub  her  down,  and  get  her  into  proper  trim  for  use. 
My  sister  is  much  disappointed  to  find  that  out  of  our 
four  horses,  two  are  unbroken  colts,  and  one  is  in  con- 
stant use  by  the  man.  I  think  if  I  can  give  her  a  drive, 
even  if  it  is  behind  a  jogging  old  mare,  it  will  set  up 
her  spirits  again." 

"  You  must  let  me  hold  her,"  said  Dora,  "  while  you 
get  the  halter,  and  then  you  can  tie  her,  while  we  go 
and  look  for  your  sister.  Don't  think  of  such  a  thing 
as  letting  her  go,  after  all  your  trouble  in  catching  her." 

"If  I  could  get  her  into  these  stables,"  said  Ralph, 
"  I  might  shut  her  in,  but  I  don't  think  that  I  shall  be 
able  to  pull  her  through  that  doorway  in  this  fashion." 

Without  further  ado.  Miss  Dora  put  out  her  right 
hand,  in  its  neatly  fitting  kid  glove,  and  took  hold  of  the 
mare's  forelock,  just  above  Ealph's  hand.  The  young 
man  demurred  an  instant,  and  then,  laughing,  ran  into 
the  stable  to  find  a  halter.  His  ownership  of  every- 
thing was  so  fresh  that  he  forgot  that  the  lower  part 
of  the  barn  was  occupied  by  the  cow  stables  —  which 
the  old  mare  did  not  wish  to  enter,  or  even  approach. 
He  hurriedly  rummaged  here  and  there  among  the  stalls, 
finding  nothing  but  some  chains  and  rope's  ends  fast- 
ened to  the  mangers,  but  in  his  hasty  search  he  could 


DORA  BANNISTER  66 

not  help  thinking  how  extremely  ingenuous  and  neigh- 
borly was  that  handsome  girl  outside. 

Dora  held  firmly  the  forelock  of  the  mare,  and  patted 
the  good  animaPs  head  with  the  other  hand ;  but,  strange 
to  say,  the  animal  did  not  like  being  held  by  the  young 
lady,  and  gradually  she  backed,  first  toward  the  side  of 
the  barn,  and  then  out  toward  the  open  yard.  Dora 
attempted  to  restrain  her,  but  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts 
was  obliged  to  follow  the  retrogressive  animal. 

"  It's  my  gloves  she  doesn't  like,"  she  said  to  herself ; 
"I  know  some  horses  can't  bear  the  smell  of  kid,  but 
I  can't  take  them  off  now,  and  I  will  not  let  go.  I  wish 
he  would  hurry  with  the  halter." 

Little  by  little  poor  Dora  was  pulled  forward,  until 
she  reached  a  spot  which  was  at  the  very  end  of  the 
clean  straw,  and  yet  not  very  far  from  the  wall  of  the 
barn.  Here  she  vigorously  endeavored  to  make  a  stand, 
for  if  she  went  another  step  forward  her  dainty  boots 
would  sink  into  mud  and  dirt. 

"  Whoa  ! "  she  called  out  to  the  mare ;  "  whoa,  now ! " 

At  the  sound  of  these  words,  plainly  uttered  in  trouble, 
Kalph,  who  happened  to  be  in  a  stall  next  to  the  barn  wall 
looking  over  some  ropes,  glanced  through  a  little  window 
about  four  feet  from  the  ground,  and  saw  Miss  Bannister 
very  close  to  him,  tottering  on  the  edge  of  the  straw, 
and  just  about  to  let  go  of  the  mare,  or  step  into  the 
mire.  Before  he  could  shape  words  to  tell  her  to  release 
her  dangerous  hold,  or  make  up  his  mind  to  rush  around 
to  the  door  to  go  to  her  assistance,  she  saw  him,  and  throw- 
ing out  her  left  hand  in  his  direction,  she  exclaimed:  — 


66  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  Oh,  hold  me,  please." 

Instantly  Ealph  put  out  his  long  arm,  and  caught  her 
by  the  hand. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Miss  Dora.  "  In  another  moment 
she  would  have  pulled  me  into  the  dirt.  Perhaps  now  I 
can  make  her  walk  up  on  the  clean  straw.  Come,  come," 
she  continued  persuasively  to  the  mare,  which,  however, 
obstinately  declined  to  advance. 

"  Let  go  of  her,  I  beg  of  you.  Miss  Bannister,"  cried 
Ralph.  "  It  will  hurt  you  to  be  pulled  on  two  sides  in 
this  way." 

Dora  was  a  strong  young  girl,  and  so  far  the  pulling 
had  not  hurt  her  at  all.  In  fact,  she  liked  it,  at  least  on 
one  side. 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't  think  of  letting  her  go,"  she  replied, 
*' after  all  the  trouble  you  have  had  in  catching  her. 
The  gate  is  open,  and  in  a  minute  she  would  be  out  in 
the  field  again.  If  she  will  only  make  a  few  steps  for- 
ward, I  am  sure  I  can  hold  her  until  you  come  out.  If 
you  would  draw  me  in  a  little  bit,  Mr.  Haverley,  perhaps 
she  would  follow." 

Ralph  did  not  in  the  least  object  to  hold  the  smoothly 
gloved  little  hand  in  his  own,  but  he  was  really  afraid 
that  the  girl  would  be  hurt,  if  she  persisted  in  this  at- 
tempt to  make  a  halter  of  herself.  If  he  released  his 
hold,  he  was  sure  she  would  be  jerked  face  forward  into 
the  mire,  or  at  least  be  obliged  to  step  into  it ;  and  as  for 
the  mare,  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  she  did  not  intend 
to  come  any  nearer  the  shed.  He  therefore  doubled  his 
entreaties  that  she  would  let  the  beast  go,  as  it  made  no 


DORA  BANNISTER  67 

difference  whether  she  ran  into  the  fields  or  not.  He 
could  easily  catch  her  again,  or  the  man  could. 

"  I  don't  want  to  let  her  go,"  said  Dora.  "  Your  sister 
would  have  a  pretty  opinion  of  me  when  she  is  ready  to 
take  her  drive,  and  finds  that  I  have  let  her  horse  run 
away ;  and,  besides,  I  don't  like  to  give  up  things.  Do 
you  like  to  give  up  things  ?  I  am  sure  you  don't,  for  I 
saw  you  bringing  this  horse  into  the  yard,  and  you  were 
very  determined  about  it.  If  I  let  her  go,  all  your  de- 
termination and  trouble  will  have  been  for  nothing.  I 
should  not  like  that.  Come,  come,  you  obstinate  creat- 
ure, just  two  steps  forward.  I  have  some  lumps  of 
sugar  in  my  pocket  which  I  keep  to  give  to  our  horses, 
but  of  course  I  can't  get  it  with  both  my  hands  occupied. 
I  wish  I  had  thought  of  the  sugar.  By  the  way,  the 
sugar  is  not  in  my  pocket ;  after  all,  it  is  in  this  little  bag 
on  my  belt ;  I  don't  suppose  you  could  reach  it." 

Ralph  stretched  out  his  other  hand,  but  he  could  not 
reach  the  little  leather  bag  with  its  silver  clasp.  If 
he  could  have  jumped  out  of  the  window,  he  would  have 
done  so  without  hesitation,  but  the  aperture  was  not 
large  enough.  He  could  not  help  being  amused  by  the 
dilemma  in  which  he  was  placed  by  this  young  lady's 
inflexibility.  He  did  not  know  a  girl,  his  sister  not 
excepted,  whom,  under  the  circumstances,  he  would  not 
have  left  to  the  consequences  of  what  he  would  have 
called  her  obstinacy.  But  there  was  something  about 
Dora  —  some  sort  of  a  lump  of  sugar  —  which  prevented 
him  from  letting  go  of  her  hand. 

"  I  never  saw  a  horse,"  said  she,  "  nor,  indeed,  any  sort 


68  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHtJRST 

of  a  living  thing,  which  was  so  unwilling  to  come  to  me. 
You  are  very  good  to  hold  me  so  strongly,  and  I  am  sure 
I  don't  mind  waiting  a  little  longer,  until  some  one 
comes  by." 

"  There  is  no  one  to  come  by,"  exclaimed  Ealph,  "  and 
I  most  earnestly  beg  of  you  —  " 

At  this  moment  the  horse  began  to  back ;  Miss  Dora's 
fingers  nervously  clasped  themselves  about  Ealph's  hand, 
which  pressed  hers  more  closely  and  vigorously  than  be- 
fore. There  was  a  strong  pull,  a  little  jerk,  and  the  fore- 
lock of  the  mare  slipped  out  of  Miss  Dora's  hand. 

"  There  ! "  she  cried ;  "  that  is  exactly  what  I  knew 
would  happen.  The  wicked  creature  has  galloped  out  of 
the  gate." 

The  young  lady  now  made  a  step  or  two  nearer  the 
barn,  Ralph  still  holding  her  hand,  as  if  to  assist  her  to 
a  better  footing. 

She  did  not  need  the  assistance  at  all,  but  she  looked 
up  gratefully,  as  Ralph  loosened  his  grasp,  and  she 
gently  withdrew  her  hand. 

"  Thank  you  ever  so  much,"  she  said.  "  If  it  had  not 
been  for  you,  I  do  not  know  where  I  should  have  been 
pulled  to ;  but  it  is  too  bad  that  the  horse  got  off,  after  all." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  Ralph.  "  I'll  have  her  again 
in  no  time,"  and  then  he  ran  outside  to  join  her. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  she,  and  giving  him  no  time  to  make 
any  proposition,  "  I  should  like  very  much  to  find  your 
sister,  and  see  her,  for  at  least  a  few  moments  before  I 
go.  Do  you  think  she  is  anywhere  in  this  glorious  old 
barn  ?    Phoebe  told  me  she  was." 


DORA  BANNISTER  69 

"  Is  this  a  girl  or  a  woman  ?  "  thought  Ralph  to  him- 
self. The  charming  and  fashionable  costume  would  have 
settled  this  question  in  the  mind  of  a  lady,  but  Ealph 
felt  a  little  puzzled.  But  be  the  case  what  it  might,  it 
would  be  charming  to  go  with  her  through  the  barn  or 
anywhere  else.  As  they  walked  over  the  lower  floor  of 
the  edifice  toward  the  stairway  in  the  corner,  Dora  re- 
marked :  — 

"  How  happy  your  cows  ought  to  be,  Mr.  Haverley,  to 
have  such  a  wide,  cool  place  as  this  to  live  in.  What 
kind  of  cows  have  you  ?  '^ 

'^Indeed,  I  don't  know,"  said  Ealph,  laughing.  "I 
haven't  had  time  to  make  their  acquaintance.  I  have 
seen  them  only  from  a  distance.  They  are  but  a  very 
small  herd,  and  I  am  sure  there  are  no  fancy  breeds 
among  them." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Dora,  as  they  went  up  the  broad 
steps,  sprinkled  with  straw  and  hayseed,  "that  what  are 
called  common  cows  are  often  really  better  than  Alder- 
neys,  or  Ayrshires,  and  those  sorts  ?  And  this  is  the 
second  story  !  How  splendid  and  vast !  What  do  you 
have  here?" 

"  On  the  right  are  the  horse  stables,"  said  Ralph,  "  and 
in  those  stalls  there  should  be  a  row  of  prancing  chargers 
and  ambling  steeds ;  and  on  the  great  empty  floor,  which 
you  see  over  here,  there  should  be  the  carriages,  —  the 
coupe,  the  family  carriage,  the  light  wagon,  the  pony 
phaeton,  the  top  buggy,  and  all  the  other  vehicles  which 
people  in  the  country  need.  But,  alas  !  you  only  see  that 
old  hay-wagon,  which  I  am  sure  would,  fall  to  pieces,  i^ 


70  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

horses  attempted  to  pull  it,  and  that  affair  with  two  big 
wheels  and  a  top.  I  think  they  call  it  a  gig,  and  I 
believe  old  Mr.  Butterwood  used  to  drive  about  in  it." 

"Indeed  he  did,"  said  Dora.  "I  remember  seeing 
him  when  I  was  a  little  girl.  It  must  be  very  comfort- 
able. I  should  think  your  sister  and  you  would  enjoy 
driving  in  that.  In  a  gig,  you  know,  you  can  go  any- 
where— into  wood-roads,  and  all  sorts  of  places  where 
you  couldn't  turn  around  with  anything  with  four  wheels. 
And  how  nice  it  is  that  it  has  a  top.  IVe  heard  it  said 
that  Mr.  Butterwood  would  always  have  everything 
comfortable  for  himself.  Perhaps  your  sister  is  in  some 
of  these  smaller  rooms.     What  are  they  ?  " 

"  Oh,  harness  rooms,  and  I  know  not  what,"  answered 
Ralph,  and  then  he  called  out :  — 

"  Miriam ! "  His  voice  was  of  a  full,  rich  tone,  and  it 
was  echoed  from  the  bare  walls  and  floors. 

"If  my  sister  is  in  the  barn  at  all,"  said  Ralph,  "I 
think  she  must  be  on  the  floor  above  this,  for  there  is  the 
hay,  and  the  hens'  nests,  if  there  are  any  —  " 

"Oh,  let  us  go  up  there,"  said  Dora;  "that  is  just 
where  we  ought  to  find  her." 

There  was  not  the  least  affectation  in  Dora's  delight,  as 
she  stood  on  the  wide  upper  floor  of  the  barn.  Its  great 
haymows  rose  on  either  side,  not  piled  to  the  roof  as 
before,  but  with  enough  hay  left  over  from  former  years 
to  fill  the  air  with  that  delightful  scent  of  mingled  clean- 
liness and  sweetness  which  belongs  to  haylofts.  At  the 
back  was  a  wide  open  door  with  a  bar  across  it,  out  of 
which  she  saw  a  far-stretching    landscape,  rich  with 


DORA  BANNISTER  71 

varied  colors  of  spring,  and  through  a  small  side  door  at 
the  other  end  of  the  floor,  which  there  was  level  with 
the  ground,  came  a  hen,  clucking  to  a  brood  of  black- 
eyed,  downy  little  chicks,  which  she  was  bringing  in  for 
the  night  to  the  spacious  home  she  had  chosen  for  them. 

Whether  or  not  Dora  would  have  enjoyed  all  this  as 
much  had  she  been  alone  is  a  point  not  necessary  to 
settle,  but  she  was  a  true  country  girl,  and  had  loved 
chickens,  barns,  and  hay  from  her  babyhood  up.  She 
stepped  quickly  to  the  open  door,  and  she  and  Ralph 
leaned  upon  the  bar  and  looked  out  upon  the  beautiful 
scene. 

"  How  charming  it  will  be,"  she  said,  "  for  your  sister 
to  come  here  and  sit  with  her  reading  or  sewing.  She 
can  look  out  and  see  you,  almost  wherever  you  happen 
to  be  on  your  farm." 

"  I  don't  believe  Miriam  will  be  content  to  sit  still  and 
watch  anybody,"  replied  Ralph.  "  I  wonder  where  she 
can  be;"  and  twice  he  called  her,  once  directing  his 
voice  up  toward  the  haymows  and  once  out  into  the  open 
air.     Dora  still  leaned  on  the  bar  and  looked  out. 

"  It  would  be  nice  if  we  could  see  her  walking  some- 
where in  the  fields,"  she  said,  and  she  and  Ralph  both 
swept  the  landscape  with  their  eyes,  but  they  saw  noth- 
ing like  a  moving  girl  in  shade  or  sunshine. 

Miss  Bannister  was  not  in  the  least  embarrassed,  as 
she  stood  here  with  this  young  man  whom  she  had  met 
such  a  little  time  before.  She  did  not  altogether  feel 
that  she  was  alone  with  him.  The  thought  that  any 
moment  the  young  man's  sister  might  make  one  of  the 


72  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHTJRST 

party,  produced  a  sensation  not  wholly  unlike  that  of 
knowing  she  was  already  there. 

The  view  of  the  far-off  hills  with  the  shadows  across 
their  sides  and  their  forest-covered  tops  glistening  in  the 
sunshine  was  very  attractive,  and  there  was  a  blossomy 
perfume  in  the  outside  air  which  mingled  charmingly 
with  the  hay -scents  from  within;  but  Dora  felt  that  it 
would  not  do  to  protract  her  pleasure  in  these  things, 
especially  as  she  noticed  signs  of  a  slight  uneasiness  on 
the  face  of  her  companion.  Probably  he  wanted  to  go 
and  look  for  his  sister,  so  they  walked  slowly  over  the 
floor  of  the  great  hayloft,  and  out  of  the  little  door 
where  the  hen  and  chickens  had  come  in,  and  Ralph 
accompanied  the  young  lady  to  her  carriage. 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  find  Thomas  and  the  horses  fast 
asleep,"  said  she,  "for  I  have  made  a  long  call,  or,  at 
least,  have  tried  to  make  one,  and  you  must  tell  your 
sister  that  my  stay  proves  how  much  I  wanted  to  see 
her.  I  hope  she  will  call  on  me  the  first  time  she  comes 
to  Thorbury." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  drive  her  over  on  purpose,"  said  Ralph, 
and,  with  a  smile.  Miss  Bannister  declared  that  would  be 
charming. 

When  the  carriage  had  rolled  upon  the  smooth  road 
outside  of  Cobhurst,  Miss  Dora  drew  off  her  left  glove 
and  looked  at  her  wrist.  "  Dear  me  !  "  said  she  to  her- 
self, "  I  thought  he  would  have  squeezed  those  buttons 
entirely  through  my  skin,  but  I  wouldn^t  have  said  a 
word  for  anything.  I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  girl  his  sis- 
if^X  is.    If  she  resembles  him,  I  know  I  sli^all  like  her^" 


MRS.  TOLBRIDGE's   REPORT   IS   NOT   ACCEPTED     73 


CHAPTER  Vni 


A  FEW  days  after  Miss  Bannister's  call  at  Cobhurst, 
it  was  returned  by  Ealph  and  Miriam,  who  drove  to 
Thorbury  with  the  brown  mare  and  the  gig.  To  their 
disappointment,  they  found  that  the  young  lady  was  not 
at  home,  and  the  communicative  maid  informed  them 
that  she  had  gone  to  the  city  to  help  Mrs.  Tolbridge  to 
get  a  new  cook. 

They  went  home  by  the  way  of  the  Witton  house,  and 
there  they  found  Miss  Panney  at  home.  The  old  lady 
was  very  much  interested  in  Miriam,  whom  she  had  not 
before  seen  out  of  bed.  She  scrutinized  the  girl  from 
hat  to  boots. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  call  you,  my  dear  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  Don't  you  honestly  think  you  are  too  young  to 
be  called-  Miss  Haverley  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  would  be  very  well  if  you  were  to  call  me 
Miriam,"  said  the  other,  who  was  of  the  opinion  that 
Miss  Panney  was  old  enough  to  call  any  woman  by  her 
Christian  name. 

The  conversation  was  maintained  almost  entirely  by 
the  old  lady  and  Ralph,  for  Miriam  was  silent  and  very 
solemn.     Once  she  broke  in  with  a  question :  — 

"What  kind  of  a  person  is  Miss  Bannister?"  she 
asked.     Miss  Panney  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"  Oh,  she  is  a  charming  person/'  she  answered^  "  P^^^ty? 


74  THE  aiRL  AT  COBHURST 

good-humored,  well  educated,  excellent  taste  in  dress  and 
almost  everything,  and  very  lively  and  pleasant  to  talk 
to.     I  am  very  fond  of  her." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Miriam,  "  that  she  is  too  old  and 
too  fine  for  me,"  and  turning  to  a  photograph  album  she 
began  to  study  the  family  portraits. 

"Your  sister's  ideas  are  rather  girlish  as  yet,"  said 
Miss  Panney,  "  but  housekeeping  at  Cobhurst  will  change 
all  that ; "  and  then  she  went  on  with  her  remarks  con- 
cerning the  Haverley  and  Butterwood  families,  a  subject 
upon  which  Ealph  was  not  nearly  so  well  informed  as 
she  was. 

When  the  brother  and  sister  had  driven  away.  Miss 
Panney  reflected  that  the  visit  had  given  her  two  pieces 
of  information.  One  was  that  the  Haverley  girl  was  a 
good  deal  younger  than  she  had  thought  her,  and  the 
other  was  that  Mrs.  Tolbridge  was  really  trying  to  get  a 
new  cook.  The  first  point  she  did  not  consider  with 
satisfaction. 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  she  thought,  "  that  Dora  and  his  sister 
are  not  likely  to  be  friends.  That  would  help  wonder- 
fully. This  schoolgirl,  probably  jealous  of  the  superior- 
ity of  grown-up  young  ladies,  may  be  very  much  in  the 
way.     I  am  sorry  the  case  is  not  different." 

In  regard  to  the  other  point  the  old  lady  was  very 
well  satisfied,  and  determined  to  go  soon  to  see  what 
success  Mrs.  Tolbridge  had  had. 

About  the  middle  of  the  next  forenoon,  Miss  Panney 
tied  her  horse  in  front  of  the  Tolbridge  house  and  en- 
tered unceremoniously,  as  she  was  in  the  habit  of  doing. 


MRS.  TOLBRIDGE's  REPORT  IS  NOT  ACCEPTED  75 

She  found  the  doctor's  wife  standing  by  the  back-parlor 
window  looking  out  on  the  garden.  When  the  old  lady- 
had  seated  herself  she  immediately  proceeded  to  busi- 
ness. 

"  Well,  Kitty,"  said  she,  "  what  sort  of  a  time  did  you 
have  yesterday  ?  " 

"A  very  discouraging  and  disagreeable  one,"  said 
Mrs.  Tolbridge.  "I  might  just  as  well  have  stayed  at 
home." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  asked  Miss  Panney,  "  that 
nobody  answered  your  advertisement  ?  " 

"  When  I  reached  the  rooms  of  the  Non-Resident  Club, 
where  the  applicants  were  to  call  —  " 

"That's  the  first  time,"  interrupted  Miss  Panney, 
"  that  I  ever  heard  that  that  Club  was  of  the  slightest 
use." 

"  It  wasn't  of  any  use  this  time,"  said  the  other ;  "  for 
although  I  found  several  women  there  who  came  before 
the  hour  appointed,  and  at  least  a  dozen  came  in  the 
course  of  the  morning,  not  one  of  them  would  do  at  all. 
I  was  just  now  looking  out  at  our  asparagus  bed,  and 
wondering  if  any  of  those  beautiful  heads  would  ever 
be  cooked  properly.  The  woman  in  our  kitchen  knows 
that  she  is  to  depart,  and  she  is  in  a  terribly  bad  temper, 
and  this  she  puts  into  her  cooking.  The  doctor  is  almost 
out  of  temper  himself.  He  says  that  he  has  pretty  good 
teeth,  but  that  he  cannot  bite  spite." 

Miss  Panney  now  appeared  to  be  getting  out  of  temper. 

"  I  must  say,  Kitty,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  irritation, 
"that  I  do  not  understand  how  it  was  that  out  of  the 


76  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

score  or  more  of  applicants,  you  could  not  find  a  better 
cook  than  the  good-for-nothing  creature  you  have  now. 
What  was  the  matter  with  them  ?  " 

"Everything,  it  seemed  to  me,"  answered  Mrs.  Tol- 
bridge.  "  Now  here  is  Dora.  She  was  with  me  yester- 
day, and  you  can  ask  her  about  the  women  we  saw." 

Miss  Panney  attached  no  value  whatever  to  the  opin- 
ions, in  regard  to  domestic  service,  of  the  young  lady 
who  had  just  entered  the  room,  and  she  asked  her  no 
questions.  Miss  Bannister,  however,  did  not  seem  in  the 
least  slighted,  and  sat  down  to  join  the  chat. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Miss  Panney,  sarcastically,  "  that 
you  tried  to  find  that  woman  that  the  doctor  used  to  say 
he  wanted:  a  woman  who  had  committed  some  great 
crime,  who  could  find  no  relief  from  her  thoughts  but  in 
constant  work,  work,  work." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  smiled. 

"No,  I  did  not  look  for  her;  nor  did  I  try  to  find 
the  person  who  was  of  a  chilly  disposition  and  very 
susceptible  to  draughts.  We  used  to  want  one  of  that 
sort,  but  she  should  be  a  waitress.  But,  seriously,  there 
were  objections  to  every  one  of  them.  Eeligion  was  a 
great  obstacle.  The  churches  of  Thorbury  are  not  de- 
signed for  the  consciences  of  city  servants.  There  was 
no  Lutheran  Church  for  the  Swedes ;  and  the  fact  that 
the  Catholic  Church  was  a  mile  from  our  house,  with 
no  street-cars,  settled  the  question  for  most  of  them. 
The  truth  is,  none  of  them  wanted  to  come  into  the 
country,  unless  they  could  get  near  Newport  or  some 
other  suitable  summer  resort." 


MRS.  TOLBRIDGB's  REPORT  IS  NOT  ACCEPTED  77 

"But  there  was  that  funny  old  body  in  a  shawl," 
said  Dora,  "who  made  no  objections  to  churches,  or 
anything  else  in  fact,  as  soon  as  she  found  out  your 
husband  wasn't  in  trade." 

"True,"  replied  Mrs.  Tolbridge;  "she  didn't  object, 
but  she  was  objectionable." 

Miss  Panney  was  beginning  to  fasten  her  wrap  about 
her.  She  had  heard  quite  enough,  but  still  she  deigned 
to  snap  out :  — 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  was  entirely  out  of  the  question,"  said  the 
lady  of  the  house.  "In  the  first  place,  she  was  the 
widow  of  a  French  chef,  or  somebody  of  that  sort,  and 
has  a  wonderful  opinion  of  her  abilities.  She  under- 
stands all  kinds  of  cooking,  —  plain  or  fancy." 

"And  even  butter,"  said  Dora;  "she  said  she  knew 
all  about  that." 

"  Yes ;  and  she  understood  how  butcher's  meat  should 
be  cut,  and  the  choosing  of  poultry,  and  I  know  not 
what  else  besides." 

"And  only  asked,"  cried  Dora,  laughing,  "if  your 
husband  was  in  trade;  and  when  she  heard  that  he 
was  a  professional  man,  was  perfectly  willing  to  come." 

Miss  Panney  turned  toward  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  sat  up 
very  straight  in  her  chair,  and  glared. 

"Was  not  this  the  very  woman  you  were  looking 
for  ?     Why  didn't  you  take  her  ?  " 

"  Take  her ! "  repeated  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  with  some  irri- 
tation. "What  could  I  do  with  a  woman  like  that? 
She  would  want  enormous  wages.     She  would  have  to 


78  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHITRST 

have  kitchen  maids,  and  I  know  not  whom,  besides,  to 
wait  on  her;  and  as  for  our  plain  style  of  living,  she 
could  not  be  expected  to  stand  that.  She  would  be 
entirely  out  of  place  in  a  house  like  this.'' 

"Her  looks  were  enough  to  settle  her  case,"  said 
Dora.  "You  never  saw  such  an  old  witch;  she  would 
frighten  the  horses." 

"Kitty  Tolbridge,"  said  Miss  Panney,  severely,  "did 
you  ask  that  woman  if  she  wanted  high  wages,  if  she 
required  kitchen  maids,  if  she  would  be  satisfied  to 
cook  for  your  family  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  said  the  other ;  "  I  knew  it  was  of  no 
use.     It  was  plain  to  see  that  she  would  not  do  at  all." 

"  Did  you  get  her  address  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Dora;  "she  gave  me  a  card  as  we  were 
going  out,  and  insisted  on  my  taking  it.  It  is  in  my 
bag  at  home." 

Miss  Panney  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  was  evi- 
dently endeavoring  to  cool  her  feelings  so  as  to  speak 
without  indignation. 

"Kitty  Tolbridge,"  she  said  presently,  "I  think  you 
have  deliberately  turned  your  back  on  one  of  the  great- 
est opportunities  ever  offered  to  a  woman  with  a  valu- 
able husband.  There  are  husbands  who  have  no  value, 
and  who  might  as  well  be  hurried  to  their  graves  by 
indigestion  as  in  any  other  way,  but  the  doctor  is  not 
one  of  these.  Now,  whatever  you  know  of  that  woman 
proves  her  to  be  the  very  person  who  should  be  in  your 
kitchen  at  this  moment;  and  whatever  you  have  said 
against  her  is  all  the  result  of  your  imagination.     If  I 


MRS.  TOLBRIDGe's  REPORT  IS  NOT  ACCEPTED  79 

were  in  your  place,  I  would  take  the  next  train  for  the 
city;  and  before  I  closed  my  eyes  this  night,  I  would 
know  whether  or  not  such  a  prize  as  that  were  in  my 
reach.  I  say  prize  because  I  never  heard  of  such  a 
chance  being  offered  to  a  doctor's  wife  in  a  country 
town.  Now  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,  Kitty  ? 
If  your  regard  for  your  husband's  physical  condition 
is  not  sufB.cient  to  make  you  look  on  this  matter  as  I 
do,  think  of  his  soul.  If  you  don't  believe  that  true 
religion  and  good  cooking  go  hand  in  hand,  wait  a  year 
and  then  see  what  sort  of  a  husband  you  will  have." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  felt  that  she  ought  to  resent  this 
speech,  that  she  ought  to  be,  at  least,  a  little  angry ;  but 
when  she  was  a  small  girl.  Miss  Panney  was  an  old 
woman  who  sometimes  used  to  scold  her.  She  had  not 
minded  the  scoldings  very  much  then,  and  she  could  not 
bring  herself  to  mind  this  scolding  very  much  now. 
Occasionally  she  had  scolded  Miss  Panney,  and  the  old 
lady  had  never  been  angry. 

"I  shall  not  go  to  the  city,"  she  said,  with  a  smile; 
"  but  I  will  write,  and  ask  all  the  questions.  Then  our 
consciences  will  be  easier." 

Miss  Panney  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  Do  it,  I  beg  of  you,"  she  said,  "  and  do  it  this  morn- 
ing. And  now,  Dora,  if  you  walked  here,  I  will  drive 
you  home  in  my  phaeton,  for  you  ought  to  send  that 
address  to  Mrs.  Tolbridge  without  delay." 

As  the  old  roan  jogged  away  from  the  doctor's  house, 
Miss  Panney  remarked  to  her  companion,  "I  needn't 
have  hurried  you  off  so  soon,  Dora,  for  it  is  three  hours 


80  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUBST 

before  the  next  mail  will  leave;  but  I  did  want  Mrs. 
Tolbridge  to  sit  down  at  once  and  write  that  letter  with- 
out being  interrupted  by  anything  which  you  might  have 
come  to  tell  her.  Of  course,  the  sooner  you  send  her 
the  address,  the  better.'^ 

"  The  boy  shall  take  it  to  her  as  soon  as  I  get  home," 
said  Dora. 

She  very  much  disliked  scoldings,  and  had  not  now  a 
word  to  say  against  the  old  body  who  would  frighten  the 
horses.  Desirous  of  turning  the  conversation  in  another 
direction  without  seeming  to  force  it,  "  It  seems  to  me," 
she  said,  "that  Mr.  and  Miss  Haverley  ought  to  have 
somebody  better  to  cook  for  them  than  old  Phoebe.  I 
have  always  looked  upon  her  as  a  sort  of  a  charwoman, 
working  about  from  house  to  house,  doing  anything  that 
people  hired  her  to  do." 

"That's  just  what  those  Haverleys  want,"  said  Miss 
Panney.  "  At  present,  everything  is  charwork  at  their 
place,  and  as  to  their  food,  I  don't  suppose  they  think 
much  about  it,  so  that  they  get  enough.  At  their  age 
they  can  eat  anything." 

"  How  old  is  Miss  Haverley  ?  "  asked  Dora. 

"  Miss  Haverley ! "  repeated  Miss  Panney,  "  she's 
nothing  but  a  girl,  with  her  hair  down  her  back  and  her 
skirts  a  foot  from  the  ground.     T  call  her  a  child." 

A  shadow  came  over  the  soul  of  Miss  Bannister. 

Would  it  be  possible,  she  thought,  to  maintain,  with 
a  girl  who  did  not  yet  put  up  her  hair  or  wear  long 
skirts,  the  intimacy  she  had  hoped  to  maintain  with  Mr. 
Haverley's  sister? 


MRS.  TOLBRIDGE^S  REPORT  IS  NOT  ACCEPTED  81 

Very  much,  the  same  idea  was  in  the  mind  of  Miss 
Panney,  but  she  thought  it  well  to  speak  encouragingly. 
"  I  wish,  for  her  brother's  sake,  the  girl  were  older,"  said 
she:  "but  housekeeping  will  help  to  mature  her  much 
more  quickly  than  if  she  had  remained  at  school.  And 
as  for  school,"  she  added,  "  it  strikes  me  it  would  be  a 
good  thing  for  her  to  go  back  there  —  after  awhile." 

Dora  thought  this  a  good  opinion,  but  before  she  could 
say  anything  on  the  subject,  she  lifted  her  eyes,  and 
beheld  Ealph  Haverley  walking  down  the  street  toward 
them.  He  was  striding  along  at  a  fine  pace,  and  looked 
as  if  he  enjoyed  it. 

"I  declare,"  ejaculated  Miss  Bannister,  "here  he  is 
himself.     We  shall  meet  him." 

"  He  ?  who  ?  "  and  Miss  Panney  looked  from  side  to 
side  of  the  road,  and  the  moment  she  saw  the  young 
man,  she  smiled. 

It  pleased  her  that  Dora  should  speak  of  him  as  "  he," 
showing  that  the  brother  was  in  her  mind  when  they 
had  been  talking  of  the  sister. 

Miss  Panney  drew  up  to  the  sidewalk,  and  Ralph 
stopped. 

He  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  cordial  greeting  he 
received  from  the  two  ladies.  These  Thorbury  people 
were  certainly  very  sociable  and  kind-hearted.  The  sun- 
light was  on  Dora's  soul  now,  and  it  sparkled  in  her  eyes. 

"  It  was  my  other  hand  that  I  gave  you  when  I  met 
you  before,"  she  said,  with  a  charming  smile. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ralph,  also  with  a  smile,  "  and  I  think  I 
held  it  an  uncommonly  long  time." 


82  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  Indeed  you  did,"  said  Dora ;  and  they  both  laughed. 

Miss  Panney  listened  in  surprise. 

"  You  two  seem  to  know  each  other  better  than  I  sup- 
posed," she  said.     "  When  did  you  become  acquainted  ?  " 

"  We  have  met  but  once  before,"  replied  Dora,  "  but 
that  was  rather  a  peculiar  meeting."  And  then  she  told 
the  story  of  her  call  at  Cobhurst,  and  of  the  mare's  fore- 
lock, and  the  old  lady  was  delighted  with  the  narration. 
She  had  never  planned  a  match  which  had  begun  so 
auspiciously.  These  young  people  must  be  truly  con- 
genial, for  already  a  spirit  of  comradeship  seemed  to 
have  sprung  up  between  them.  But  of  course  that  sort 
of  thing  could  not  be  kept  up  to  the  desirable  point  with- 
out the  assistance  of  the  sister.  In  some  way  or  other, 
that  girl  must  be  managed.  Miss  Panney  determined  to 
give  her  mind  to  it. 

With  Ralph  standing  close  by  the  side  of  the  phaeton, 
the  reins  lying  loose  on  the  back  of  the  drowsy  roan,  and 
Dora  leaning  forward  from  her  seat,  so  as  to  speak  better 
with  the  young  man,  the  interview  was  one  of  consider- 
able length,  and  no  one  seemed  to  think  it  necessary  that 
it  should  be  brought  to  a  close.  Ralph  had  come  to 
attend  to  some  business  in  the  town,  and  had  preferred 
to  walk  rather  than  drive  the  brown  mare. 

"  Did  you  ever  catch  that  delightfully  obstinate  creat- 
ure?" cried  Dora.  ^-And  did  you  give  your  sister  a 
drive  in  the  gig  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Ralph,  "I  easily  caught  her  again, 
and  I  curried  and  polished  her  up  myself,  and  trimmed 
her  mane  and  tail  and  fetlocks,  and  since  she  has  been 


MRS.  TOLBRIDGB'S  REPORT  IS  NOT  ACCEPTED  8S 

having  good  meals  of  oatSj  you  can  hardly  imagine  what 
a  sleek-looking  beast  she  has  become.  We  drove  her 
into  Thorbury  when  Miriam  returned  your  call.  I  am 
sorry  you  were  not  at  home,  so  that  you  might  have  seen 
what  a  change  had  come  over  Mrs.  Browning." 

Dora  looked  inquiringly. 

"That  is  the  name  that  Miriam  has  given  to  the 
mare." 

Dora  laughed. 

"If  Mrs.  Browning  is  one  of  your  sister's  favorite 
poets,"  she  said,  "  that  will  be  a  bond  between  us,  for  I 
like  her  poems  better  than  I  do  her  husband's,  at  least  I 
understand  them  better.  I  wonder  if  your  sister  will 
ever  ask  me  to  take  a  drive  with  her  in  the  gig?  I 
could  show  her  so  many  pretty  places." 

"  Indeed  she  will,"  said  Ralph ;  "  but  you  mustn't  think 
we  are  going  to  confine  ourselves  to  that  sedate  convey- 
ance and  the  old  mare.  The  colts  are  old  enough  to  be 
broken,  and  when  they  are  ready  to  drive  we  shall  have 
a  spanking  team." 

"  That  will  be  splendid,"  exclaimed  Dora.  "  I  cannot 
imagine  anything  more  inspiriting  than  driving  with  a 
pair  of  freshly  broken  horses." 

Miss  Panney  gave  a  little  sniff. 

"  That  sort  of  thing,"  she  said,  "  sometimes  exalts  one's 
spirit  so  high  that  it  is  never  again  burdened  by  the 
body ;  but  all  horses  have  to  be  broken,  and  people  con- 
tinue to  live." 

She  smiled  as  she  thought  that  the  pair  of  young  colts 
which  she  had  taken  in  hand  seemed  to  give  promise  of 


84  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

driving  together  most  beautifully.  But  it  would  not  do 
to  stop  here  all  the  morning,  and  as  there  was  no  sign 
that  Dora  would  tire  of  asking  questions  or  Ralph  of 
answering  them,  the  old  lady  gathered  up  the  reins. 

^^You  mustn't  be  surprised,  Mr.  Haverley,"  she  said, 
"if  the  ladies  of  Thorbury  come  a  good  deal  to  Cobhurst. 
We  have  more  time  than  the  gentlemen,  and  we  all  want 
to  get  well  acquainted  with  your  sister,  and  help  her  in 
every  way  that  we  can.  Miss  Bannister  is  going  to  drive 
over  very  soon  and  stop  for  me  on  the  way,  so  that  we 
shall  call  on  her  together." 

When  the  young  man  had  bowed  and  departed,  and 
the  old  roan  was  jogging  on,  Dora  leaned  back  in  the 
phaeton  and  said  to  herself,  that,  without  knowing  it. 
Miss  Panney  was  an  angel.  When  they  should  go 
together  to  Cobhurst,  the  old  lady  would  be  sure  to 
spend  her  time  talking  to  the  girl. 


CHAPTER  IX 

JOHN    WESLEY    AND    LORENZO    DOW   AT   LUNCHEON 

Two  days  after  her  lecture  to  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  Miss 
Panney  was  again  in  Thorbury,  and,  having  finished  the 
shopping  which  brought  her  there,  she  determined  to 
go  to  see  the  doctor's  wife,  and  find  out  if  that  lady 
had  acted  on  the  advice  given  her.  She  had  known 
Mrs.  Tolbridge  nearly  all  that  lady's  life,  and  had 
always  suspected  in  her  a  tendency  to  neglect  advice 


WESLEY   AND   DOW   AT  LUNCHEON  85 

which,  she  did  not  like,  after  the  adviser  was  out  of 
the  way.  She  did  not  wish  to  be  over-inquisitive,  but 
she  intended,  in  some  quiet  way,  to  find  out  whether  or 
not  the  letter  about  which  she  had  spoken  so  strongly 
had  been  written.  If  it  had  not,  she  would  take  time 
to  make  up  her  mind  what  she  should  do.  Kitty  Tol- 
bridge  and  she  had  scolded  each  other  often  enough, 
and  had  had  many  differences,  but  they  had  never  yet 
seriously  quarrelled.  Miss  Panney  did  not  intend  to 
quarrel  now,  but  if  she  found  things  as  she  feared  they 
were,  she  intended  to  interfere  in  a  way  that  might 
make  Kitty  uncomfortable,  and  perhaps  produce  the 
same  effect  on  herself  and  the  doctor;  but  let  that 
be  as  it  might,  she  assured  herself  there  were  some 
things  that  ought  to  be  done,  no  matter  who  felt  badly 
about  it. 

She  found  the  doctor's  wife  in  a  state  of  annoyance 
and  disquiet,  and  was  greatly  surprised  to  be  told  that 
this  condition  had  been  caused  by  a  note  which  had  just 
been  brought  to  her  from  her  husband,  stating  that  he 
had  been  called  away  to  a  distant  patient,  and  would 
not  be  able  to  come  home  to  luncheon. 

"  My  dear  Kitty  ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Panney,  "  I  should 
have  thought  you  were  thoroughly  used  to  that  sort  of 
thing.  I  supposed  a  country  doctor  would  miss  his  mid- 
day meal  about  half  the  time." 

"  And  so  he  does,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge ;  "  but  I  was 
particularly  anxious  that  he  should  lunch  at  home  to- 
day, and  he  promised  me  that  he  would." 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  you  will  have  to  bear  up 


86  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

under  it  as  well  as  you  can,  and  I  hope  they  will  give 
him  something  to  eat  wherever  he  is  going." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  seemed  occupied,  and  did  not  answer. 

"  Miss  Panney,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  will  you  stay  and 
take  lunch  with  me  ?     I  should  like  it  ever  so  much." 

"Are  you  going  to  have  strawberries?"  asked  Miss 
Panney. 

"Mrs.  Tolbridge  hesitated  a  little,  and  then  replied, 
"  Yes,  we  shall  have  them." 

"  Very  well,  then,  I'll  stay.  The  Witton  strawberries 
are  small  and  sour  this  year;  and  I  haven't  tasted  a 
good  one  yet." 

During  the  half  hour  which  intervened  before  lunch- 
eon was  announced.  Miss  Panney  discovered  nothing 
regarding  the  matter  which  brought  her  there.  She 
would  ask  no  questions,  for  it  was  Kitty  Tolbridge's 
duty  to  introduce  the  subject,  and  she  would  give  her 
a  chance ;  but  if  she  did  not  do  it  in  a  reasonable  time. 
Miss  Panney  would  not  only  ask  questions,  but  state  her 
opinion. 

When  she  sat  down  at  the  pretty  round  table,  arranged 
for  two  persons.  Miss  Panney  was  surprised  at  the  scanty 
supply  of  eatables.  There  was  the  tea-tray,  bread  and 
butter,  and  some  radishes.     Her  soul  rose  in  anger. 

"Slops  and  fruit,"  she  said  to  herself.  "She  isn't 
worthy  to  have  any  sort  of  a  husband,  much  less  such 
a  one  as  she  has." 

There  was  a  vase  of  flowers  in  the  centre  of  the  table ; 
but  although  Miss  Panney  liked  flowers,  at  meal-times 
she  preferred  good  honest  food. 


WESLEY   AND  DOW  AT  LUNCHEON  87 

"  Shall  I  give  you  a  cup  of  tea  ?  "  asked  her  hostess. 

The  old  lady  did  not  care  for  tea,  but  as  she  consid- 
ered that  she  could  not  eat  strawberries  on  an  empty 
stomachj  she  took  some,  and  was  just  about  to  cast  a 
critical  eye  on  the  bread,  when  a  maid  entered,  bearing 
a  dish  containing  two  little  square  pieces  of  fish,  covered 
with  a  greenish  white  sauce,  and  decorated  with  bits  of 
water-cress. 

As  soon  as  Miss  Panney^s  eyes  fell  upon  this  dish,  she 
understood  the  situation  —  Mrs.  Tolbridge  had  actually 
fallen  back  upon  Kipper.  Kipper  was  a  caterer  in  Thor- 
bury,  and  a  good  one.  He  was  patronized  by  the  citi- 
zens on  extraordinary  festive  occasions,  but  depended 
for  his  custom  principally  upon  certain  families  who 
came  to  the  village  for  a  few  months  in  the  summer, 
and  who  did  not  care  to  trouble  themselves  with  much 
domestic  machinery. 

"  Kipper,  indeed,"  thought  the  old  lady ;  "  that  is  the 
last  peg.  A  caterer's  tid-bit  for  a  hard-working  man. 
If  she  would  have  her  fish  cooked  properly  in  her  own 
house,  she  could  give  him  six  times  as  much  for  half 
the  money.  And  positively,"  she  continued,  in  inward 
speech,  as  the  maid  presented  the  bread  and  butter, 
"Kipper's  biscuit!  I  suppose  she  is  going  to  let  him 
provide  her  with  everything,  just  as  he  does  for  those 
rich  people  on  Maple  Avenue." 

The  fish  was  very  good,  and  Miss  Panney  ate  every 
morsel  of  it,  but  made  no  remark  concerning  it.  In- 
stead of  speaking  of  food,  she  talked  of  the  doings 
of  the  Methodist  congregation  in  Thorbury,  who  were 


88  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

planning  to  build  a  new  church,  far  more  expensive 
than  she  believed  they  could  afford.  She  was  engaged 
in  berating  Mr.  Hampton,  the  minister,  who,  she  de- 
clared, was  actually  encouraging  his  flock  in  their  pro- 
posed extravagance,  when  the  maid  gave  her  a  clean 
plate,  and  handed  her  a  dish  of  sweetbread,  tastefully 
garnished  with  clover  blossoms  and  leaves.  Miss  Panney 
stopped  talking,  gazed  at  the  dish  for  a  minute,  and  then 
helped  herself  to  a  goodly  portion  of  its  contents. 

"Feathers,"  she  said  to  herself;  "no  more  than 
froth  and  feathers  to  a  man  who  has  been  working  hard 
half  a  day,  and  as  to^  the  extravagance  of  such  flimsy 
victuals  — "  She  could  keep  quiet  no  longer,  she  was 
obliged  to  speak  out,  and  she  burst  into  a  tirade  against 
people  who  called  themselves  pious,  and  yet,  wilfully 
shutting  their  eyes,  were  about  to  plunge  into  wicked 
wastefulness.  She  ate  as  she  talked,  however,  and  she 
had  brought  up  John  Wesley,  and  was  about  to  give 
her  notion  of  what  he  would  have  had  to  say  about  a 
fancy  church  for  a  Thorbury  congregation,  when  the 
plates  were  again  changed,  and  a  dainty  dish  of  sirloin 
steak,  with  mushrooms,  and  thin  slices  of  delicately 
browned  potatoes,  was  put  before  her. 

"Well!"  inwardly  ejaculated  the  old  lady,  "some- 
thing substantial  at  last.  But  what  money  this  meal 
must  have  cost ! " 

As  she  cut  into  the  thick,  juicy  piece  of  steak,  which 
had  been  broiled  until  it  was  cooked  enough,  and  not 
a  minute  more.  Miss  Panney^s  mind  dropped  from  the 
consideration  of   congregational   finances   into   that  of 


WESLEY   AND  DOW   AT   LUNCHEON  89 

domestic  calculation.  She  knew  Kipper's  charges;  she 
knew  everybody's  charges. 

"  That  dish  of  fish,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  was  not  less 
than  sixty  cents ;  the  sweetbreads  cost  a  dollar,  if  they 
cost  a  cent ;  this  sirloin,  with  mushrooms,  was  seventy- 
five  cents ;  that,  with  the  French  biscuit,  is  two  dollars 
and  a  half  for  a  family  lunch  for  two  people." 

Miss  Panney  did  not  let  her  steak  get  cold,  for  she 
could  talk  and  eat  at  the  same  time,  and  the  founder  of 
Methodism  never  delivered  so  scorching  a  tirade  against 
pomp  and  show  in  professors  of  religion  as  she  gave 
forth  in  his  name. 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  had  been  very  quiet  during  the  course 
of  the  meal,  but  she  was  now  constrained  to  declare  that 
she  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  plans  for  the  new  Method- 
ist church,  and,  in  fact,  she  knew  very  little  about  them. 

"  Some  things  concern  all  of  us,"  retorted  Miss  Panney. 
"  Suppose  Bishop  White,  when  he  was  ordained  and  came 
back  to  this  country,  had  found  a  little  village  —  " 

Her  remarks  were  stopped  by  a  dish  of  salad.  The 
young  and  tender  leaves  of  lettuce  were  half  concealed 
by  a  mayonnaise  dressing. 

"  This  makes  three  dollars,"  thought  Miss  Panney,  as 
she  helped  herself,  "  for  Kipper  never  makes  any  differ- 
ence, even  if  you  send  your  own  lettuce  to  be  dressed." 
And  then  she  went  on  talking  about  Bishop  White,  and 
what  he  would  have  thought  of  a  little  cathedral  in 
every  country  town. 

"But  the  Methodists  do  not  have  cathedrals,"  said 
Mrs.  Tolbridge. 


90  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

"Which  makes  it  all  the  worse  when  they  try  to 
build  their  meeting-houses  to  look  like  them,"  replied 
the  old  lady. 

It  was  a  long  time  since  Miss  Panney  had  tasted  any 
mayonnaise  dressing  as  good  as  this.  But  she  remem- 
bered that  the  strawberries  were  to  come,  and  did  not 
help  herself  again  to  salad. 

"If  one  of  the  old  Methodist  circuit-riders,"  she  said, 
"after  toiling  over  miles  of  weary  road  in  the  rain  or 
scorching  sun,  and  preaching  sometimes  in  a  log  meeting- 
house, sometimes  in  a  barn,  and  often  in  a  private  house, 
should  suddenly  come  upon — " 

The  imaginary  progress  of  the  circuit-rider  was 
brought  to  a  stop  by  the  arrival  of  the  last  course  of 
the  luncheon.  From  a  pretty  glass  dish  uprose  a  won- 
drous structure.  Within  an  encircling  wall  of  delicate, 
candied  tracery  was  heaped  a  little  mound  of  creamy 
frost,  the  sides  of  great  strawberries  showing  here  and 
there  among  the  veins  and  specks  of  crimson  juice. 

Miss  Panney  raised  her  eyes  from  this  creation  to 
the  face  of  her  hostess. 

"  Kitty,"  said  she,  "  is  this  the  doctor^s  birthday  ?  " 

"No,"  answered  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  with  a  smile j  "he 
was  born  in  January." 

"  Yours  then,  perhaps  ?  " 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  shook  her  head. 

"A  dollar  and  a  half,"  thought  the  old  lady,  "and 
perhaps  more.  Five  dollars  at  the  very  least  for  the 
meal.  If  the  doctor  makes  that  much  between  meals, 
day  in  and  day  out,  she  ought  to  be  thankful." 


WESLEY   AND   DOW  AT  LUNCHEON  91 

The  dainty  concoction  to  which  the  blazing-eyed  old 
lady  now  applied  herself  was  something  she  had  never 
before  tasted,  and  she  became  of  the  opinion  that  Kipper 
would  not  get  up  a  dish  of  that  sort,  and  so  much  of  it, 
for  less  than  two  dollars. 

"There  was  a  Methodist  preacher,"  she  said,  spoonful 
after  spoonful  of  the  cold  and  fruity  concoction  melting 
in  her  mouth  as  she  spoke,  "a  regular  apostle  of  the 
poor,  named  Lorenzo  Dow.  How  I  would  like  to  have 
him  here.  He  was  a  man  who  would  let  people  know 
in  trumpet  tones,  by  day  and  by  night,  what  he  thought 
of  wicked,  wasteful  prodigality,  no  matter  how  pleasant 
it  might  be,  how  easy  it  might  be,  or  how  proper  in 
people  who  could  afford  it.  Is  there  to  be  anything 
more,  Kitty  Tolbridge?" 

The  doctor's  wife  could  not  restrain  a  little  laugh. 

"No,"  she  said,  "there  is  to  be  nothing  more,  unless 
you  will  take  a  little  tea." 

Miss  Panney  pushed  back  her  chair  and  looked  at  her 
hostess.  "  Tea  after  a  meal  like  that !  I  should  think 
not.  If  you  had  had  champagne  during  the  luncheon, 
and  coffee  afterwards,  I  shouldn't  have  been  surprised." 

"I  did  not  order  coffee,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "be- 
cause we  don't  take  it  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  but  —  " 

"  You  ordered  quite  enough,"  said  her  visitor,  severely ; 
"and  I  will  say  this  for  Kipper,  that  he  never  got  up 
a  better  meal,  although  —  " 

"Kipper!"  interrupted  Mrs.  Tolbridge.  "Kipper 
had  nothing  to  do  with  this  luncheon.  It  was  prepared 
by  my  new  cook.    It  is  the  first  meal  she  has  given  us, 


92  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

and  I  am  so  sorry  the  doctor  could  not  be  here  to  eat 
it." 

Miss  Panney  rose  from  her  chair,  and  gazed  earnestly 
at  Mrs.  Tolbridge. 

"  What  cook  ?  "  she  asked,  in  her  deepest  tones. 

"Jane  La  Fleur,"  was  the  reply;  "the  woman  you 
urged  me  to  write  to.  I  sent  the  letter  that  afternoon. 
Yesterday  she  came  to  see  me,  and  I  engaged  her.  And 
while  we  were  at  breakfast  this  morning,  she  arrived 
with  her  boxes,  and  went  to  work." 

"And  she  cooked  that  meal?  She  herself  made  all 
those  things  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "she  even  churned  the 
butter  and  made  the  biscuit.  She  says  she  is  going  to 
do  a  great  deal  better  than  this  when  she  gets  things  in 
order." 

"Better  than  this!"  ejaculated  Miss  Panney.  "Do 
you  mean  to  say,  Kitty  Tolbridge,  that  this  sort  of 
thing  is  going  to  happen  three  times  a  day  ?  What 
have  you  done  ?  What  sort  of  a  creature  is  she  ?  Tell 
me  all  about  it  this  very  minute." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  led  the  way  to  the  parlor,  and  the  two 
sat  down. 

"Now,"  said  the  doctor's  wife,  "suppose  you  finish  what 
you  were  saying  about  the  Methodist  church,  then  —  " 

Miss  Panney  stamped  her  foot. 

"  Don't  mention  them ! "  she  cried.  "  Let  them  build 
tower  on  tower,  spire  on  spire,  crypts,  picture  galleries, 
altars,  confessionals,  if  they  like.  Tell  me  about  your 
new  cook." 


WESLEY  AND  DOW  AT  LUNCHEON  98 

"It  will  take  a  long  time  to  tell  you  all  about  her, 
at  least  all  she  told  me/'  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "for  she 
talked  to  me  more  than  an  hour  this  morning,  working 
away  all  the  time.  Her  name  is  Jane  La  Fleur,  but 
she  does  not  wish  any  one  to  call  her  Jane.  She  would 
like  the  family  to  use  her  last  name,  and  the  servants 
can  do  the  same,  or  call  her  ^  madam.'  She  is  the 
widow  of  two  chefs,  one  a  Florentine,  named  Tolati, 
and  the  other  a  Frenchman,  La  Fleur.  She  acted  as 
*  second'  to  each  of  these,  and  in  that  way  has  thor- 
oughly learned  the  art  of  Italian  cooking,  as  well  as 
the  French  methods.  She  herself  is  English,  and  she 
has  told  me  about  some  of  the  great  families  she  and 
her  husbands  lived  with." 

"  Kitty,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "  I  should  think  she  was 
trying  to  impose  upon  you  with  a  made-up  story;  but 
after  that  luncheon  I  will  believe  anything  she  says 
about  her  opportunities.  How  in  the  world  did  you 
get  such  a  woman  to  come  to  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  whole  business  of  engaging  her  was  very  sim- 
ple," answered  Mrs.  Tolbridge.  "  Her  last  husband  left 
her  some  money,  and  she  came  to  this  country  on  a  visit 
to  relatives,  but  she  loved  her  art  so  much,  she  said  —  " 

"  Did  she  call  it  art  ?  "  asked  Miss  Panney. 

"  Yes,  she  did  —  that  she  felt  she  must  cook,  and  she 
lived  for  some  time  with  a  family  named  Drane,  in 
Pennsylvania,  with  whom  the  doctor  used  to  be  ac- 
quainted. She  had  a  letter  from  them  which  fully 
satisfied  me.  On  her  part  she  said  she  would  be  con- 
tent with  the  salary  I  paid  my  last  cook." 


94  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHtJRST 

'^  Did  slie  call  it  salary  ?  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady. 

"That  was  the  word  she  used,"  answered  Mrs.  Tol- 
bridge,  "and  as  I  said  before,  the  only  question  she 
asked  was  whether  or  not  my  husband  was  in  trade." 

"  What  did  that  matter  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

"  It  seemed  to  matter  a  great  deal.  She  said  she  had 
never  yet  lived  with  a  tradesman,  and  never  intended  to. 
She  was  with  Mrs.  Drane,  the  widow  of  a  college  pro- 
fessor, for  several  months,  and  when  the  family  found 
they  could  no  longer  afford  to  keep  a  servant  who  could 
do  nothing  but  cook.  La  Fleur  returned  to  her  relatives, 
and  looked  for  another  position;  but  not  until  I  came, 
she  said,  had  any  one  applied  who  was  not  in  trade." 

"  She  must  be  an  odd  creature,"  said  Miss  Panney. 

"  She  is  odder  than  odd,"  was  the  answer.  At  this 
moment  the  maid  came  in  and  told  Mrs.  Tolbridge  that 
the  madam  cook  wanted  to  see  her.  The  lady  of  the 
house  excused  herself,  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned, 
smiling. 

"  She  wished  to  tell  me,"  said  she,  "  before  my  visitor 
left,  that  the  name  of  the  '  sweet '  which  she  gave  us  at 
luncheon  is  la  promessej  being  merely  a  promise  of  what 
she  is  going  to  do,  when  she  gets  about  her  everything 
she  wants." 

"Kitty  Tolbridge,"  said  Miss  Panney,  solemnly,  "what- 
ever happens,  don't  mind  that  woman's  oddity.  Keep 
your  mind  on  her  cooking,  and  don't  consider  anything 
else.  She  is  an  angel,  and  she  belongs  to  the  very 
smallest  class  of  angels  that  visit  human  beings.  You 
may  find,  by  the  dozen,  philanthropists,  kind  friends, 


A  SILK  GOWN  AND  A  BOTTLE  95 

helpers  and  counsellors,  the  most  loving  and  generous; 
but  a  cook  like  that  in  a  Thorbury  family  is  as  rare  as 
—  as  —  as  —  I  can't  think  of  anything  so  rare.  I  came 
here,  Kitty,  to  find  out  if  you  had  written  to  that 
woman,  and  now  to  discover  that  the  whole  matter  has 
been  settled  in  two  days,  and  that  the  doors  of  Paradise 
have  been  opened  to  Dr.  Tolbridge  —  for  you  know, 
Kitty,  that  the  Garden  of  Eden  was  truly  Paradise 
until  they  began  to  eat  the  wrong  things — I  feel  as 
if  I  had  been  assisting  at  a  miracle." 


CHAPTER  X 

A  SILK   GOWN   AND   A   BOTTLE 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  June  that  Miss  Dora  Ban- 
nister returned  from  a  fortnight's  visit  to  some  friends 
at  the  seashore,  and  she  had  been  home  a  very  little 
while,  when  she  became  convinced  that  her  most  im- 
portant duty  was  to  go  to  see  that  young  girl  at  Cob- 
hurst.  It  seemed  very  strange  that  so  long  a  time  had 
passed  since  the  arrival  of  the  Haverleys  into  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  she  had  never  yet  seen  his  sister.  In  Miss 
Bannister's  mind  there  was  a  central  point,  about  which 
clustered  everything  connected  with  Cobhurst :  that 
point  was  a  young  man,  and  the  house  was  his  house, 
and  the  fields  were  his  fields,  and  the  girl  was  his  sister. 

It  so  happened,  the  very  next  day,  that  Herbert  Ban- 
nister found  it  necessary  to  visit  a  lady  client,  who  lived 


96  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

about  four  miles  beyond  Cobliurst,  and  when  Dora  heard 
this  she  was  delighted.  Her  brother  should  take  her 
as  far  as  Cobhurst  with  him;  they  should  start  early 
enough  to  give  him  time  to  stop  and  call  on  Ralph  Hav- 
erley,  which  he  most  certainly  ought  to  do,  and  then  he 
could  go  on  and  attend  to  his  business,  leaving  her  at 
Cobhurst.  Even  if  neither  the  brother  nor  the  sister 
were  at  home,  she  would  not  mind  being  left  at  that 
charming  old  place.  She  would  take  a  book  with  her, 
for  there  were  so  many  shady  spots  where  she  could  sit 
and  read  until  Herbert  came  back. 

Herbert  Bannister,  whose  mind  was  devoted  to  busi- 
ness and  the  happiness  of  his  sister,  was  well  pleased 
with  this  arrangement,  and  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  the  buggy  containing  the  two  stopped  in  front 
of  the  Cobhurst  portico. 

The  front  door  was  open,  and  they  could  see  through 
the  hall  and  the  open  back  door  into  the  garden  beyond. 

Dora  laughed  as  she  said,  "This  is  just  what  hap- 
pened when  I  came  here  before,  —  everything  wide  open, 
as  though  there  were  no  flies  nor  dogs  nor  strangers." 

Herbert  got  out  and  rang  the  bell :  he  rang  it  twice, 
but  no  one  came.     Dora  beckoned  him  to  her. 

"  It  is  of  no  use,"  she  said ;  "  that  also  happened  when 
I  came  before.  They  don't  live  in  the  house,  at  least  in 
the  daytime.     But  Herbert,  there  is  a  man." 

At  this  moment,  the  negro  Mike  was  seen  at  a  little 
distance,  hurrying  along  with  a  tin  pitcher  in  his  hand. 
Herbert  advanced,  and  called  to  him,  and  Mike,  with  his 
pitcher,  approached. 


A  SILK  GOWN  AND   A  BOTTLE  97 

"  The  boss,"  he  said,  in  response  to  their  inquiries,  "  is 
down  in  the  big  meadow,  helpin'  me  get  in  the  hay.  We 
tried  to  git  extry  help,  but  everybody's  busy  this  time  o' 
year,  an'  he  an'  me  has  got  to  step  along  pretty  sharp  to 
git  that  hay  in  before  it  rains.  No,  Miss,  I  dunno  where 
the  young  lady  is.  She  was  down  in  the  hay-field  this 
mornin',  rakin',  but  I  'spects  she  is  doin'  some  sort  of 
housework  jes'  now,  or  perhaps  she's  in  the  garden.  I'd 
go  an'  look  her  up,  but  beggin'  your  pardon,  I  ain't  got 
one  minute  to  spare,  the  boss  is  waitin'  for  me  now," 
a.nd,  touching  his  shabby  old  hat,  Mike  departed. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  asked  Herbert,  standing  by  the 
buggy. 

"  I  think,"  said  Dora,  slowly  and  decisively,  as  if  she 
had  fully  considered  the  matter,  "  that  you  may  as  well 
go  on,  for  I  don't  suppose  it  would  do  to  disturb  Mr. 
Haverley  now.  I  know  that  when  people  are  making 
hay,  they  can't  stop  for  anything." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  her  brother,  with  a  smile ;  "  hay- 
making is  like  drawing  the  will  of  a  rich  man  on  his 
death-bed ;  it  must  be  done  promptly,  if  it  is  done  at  all. 
I  shall  go  on,  of  course,  and  you  will  go  with  me  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Dora,  preparing  to  get  down  from 
the  buggy ;  "  I  would  not  want  to  wait  for  you  in  that 
tiresome  old  horse-hair  parlor  of  the  Dudleys.  I  should 
ever  so  much  rather  sit  here,  by  myself,  until  you  come 
back.  But  of  course  I  shall  see  her  before  long.  Isn't 
it  funny,  Herbert  ?  I  had  to  look  for  her  when  I  came 
here  before,  and  I  suppose  I  shall  always  have  to  look 
for  her  whenever  I  come." 


98  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

Her  brother  admitted  that  it  was  funny,  and  accepting 
her  arrangement,  he  drove  away.  Dora  rang  the  bell, 
and  stepped  into  the  hall.  "I  will  wait  here  a  little 
while,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  then  I  will  go  to  Phoebe's 
house,  and  ask  her  where  she  is.  If  she  does  not  know, 
I  do  not  in  the  least  mind  walking  over  to  the  hay-field, 
and  calling  to  Mr.  Haverley.  It  would  not  take  him 
three  minutes  to  come  and  tell  me  where  I  would  better 
go  to  look  for  his  sister." 

At  this  Miss  Bannister  smiled  a  little.  She  would  be 
really  glad  to  know  if  Mr.  Haverley  would  be  willing  to 
leave  that  important  hay,  and  make  everything  wait 
until  he  came  to  speak  to  her.  As  she  stood,  she  looked 
about  her;  on  a  table  by  the  wall  lay  a  straw  hat 
trimmed  with  flowers,  and  a  pair  of  long  gloves,  a  good 
deal  soiled  and  worn.  Dora's  eyes  passed  carelessly 
over  these,  and  rested  on  another  pair  of  gloves,  larger 
and  heavier. 

"He  hasn't  driven  much,  yet,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"for  they  look  almost  new.  I  wonder  when  he  will 
break  his  colts.  Then,  I  suppose,  he  will  drive  a  good 
deal." 

Dora  was  a  girl  who  noticed  things,  and  turning  to  the 
other  side  of  the  hall,  she  saw  a  larger  table,  and  on  it 
lay  a  powder-horn  and  a  shot-flask,  while  in  the  angle  of 
the  table  and  the  wall  there  stood  a  double-barrelled 
fowling-piece.  This  sight  made  her  eyes  sparkle;  he 
must  like  to  hunt  and  shoot.  That  pleased  her  very 
much.  Herbert  never  cared  for  those  things,  but  she 
thought  a  young  man  should  be  fond  of  guns  and  dogs 


A  SILK  GOWK  AKD  A  BOTTLE  99 

and  horses,  and  although  she  had  never  thought  of  it 
before,  she  now  considered  it  a  manly  thing  to  be  able  to 
go  out  into  the  hay-field  and  work,  if  it  happened  to  be 
necessary. 

She  went  to  the  back  door,  and  stood,  looking  out. 
There  was  nobody  stirring  about  Phoebe's  house,  and 
she  asked  herself  if  it  would  be  worth  while  to  go  over 
to  it.  Perhaps  it  might  be  as  well  to  stroll  toward  the 
hay-field.  She  knew  where  the  great  meadow  was,  be- 
cause she  had  looked  over  it  when  she  had  stood  at  the 
wide  barn  window  with  Mr.  Haverley.  He  had  pointed 
out  a  good  many  things  to  her,  and  she  remembered 
them  all. 

But  she  did  not  go  to  the  hay-field.  Just  as  she  was 
about  to  step  out  upon  the  back  porch,  she  heard  a  door 
open  behind  her,  and  turning,  saw,  emerging  from  the 
closed  apartment  which  contained  the  staircase,  a  strange 
figure.  The  head  was  that  of  a  young  girl  about  four- 
teen, with  large,  astonished  blue  eyes,  and  light  brown 
hair  hanging  in  a  long  plait  down  her  back,  while  her 
form  was  attired  in  a  plum-colored  silk  gown,  very  much 
worn,  torn  in  some  places,  with  several  great  stains  in 
the  front  of  the  skirt,  and  a  long  and  tattered  train.  The 
shoulders  were  ever  so  much  too  wide,  the  waist  was 
ever  so  much  too  big,  and  the  long  sleeves  were  turned 
back  and  rolled  up.  In  her  hand  the  figure  held  a  large 
glass  bottle,  from  the  mouth  of  which  hung  a  short  rub- 
ber tube,  ending  in  a  bulbous  mouth-piece. 

Dora  could  not  suppress  a  start  and  an  expression  of 
surprise,  but  she  knew  this  must  be  Miriam  Haverley, 


100  THE  GIRL   AT  COBHURST 

and  advanced  toward  her.  In  a  moment  she  had  re- 
covered her  self-possession  sufficiently  to  introduce  her- 
self and  explain  the  situation.  Miriam  took  the  bottle 
in  her  left  hand,  and  held  out  her  right  to  Dora. 

"I  have  been  expecting  you  would  call,"  she  said,  ^^but 
I  had  no  idea  you  were  here  now.  The  door-bell  is  in 
the  basement,  and  I  have  been  upstairs,  trying  to  get 
dough  off  my  hands.  I  have  been  making  bread,  and  I 
had  no  idea  it  was  so  troublesome  to  get  your  hands 
clean  afterwards ;  but  I  expect  my  dough  is  stickier  than 
it  ought  to  be,  and  after  that  I  was  busy  getting  myself 
ready  to  go  out  and  f Qed  a  calf.  Will  you  walk  into  the 
parlor  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  cried  Dora,  "  let  me  go  with  you  to  feed  the 
calf ;  I  shall  like  that  ever  so  much  better." 

"  It  can  wait  just  as  well  as  not,"  said  Miriam ;  "  we 
can  sit  in  the  hall,  if  you  like,"  and  she  moved  toward 
an  old-fashioned  sofa  which  stood  against  the  wall ;  as 
she  did  so,  she  stepped  on  the  front  of  her  voluminous 
silk  gown,  and  came  near  falling. 

"  The  horrid  old  thing ! "  she  exclaimed ;  "  I  am  always 
tripping  over  it,"  and  as  she  glanced  at  Dora  the  two 
girls  broke  into  a  laugh.  "  I  expect  you  think  I  look 
like  a  perfect  guy,"  she  said,  as  they  seated  themselves, 
"  and  so  I  do,  but  you  see  the  calf  is  not  much  more  than 
a  week  old,  and  its  mother  has  entirely  deserted  it,  and 
kicks  and  horns  at  it  if  it  comes  near  her.  It  got  to  be 
so  weak  it  could  scarcely  stand  up,  and  I  have  adopted 
it,  and  feed  it  out  of  this  bottle.  The  first  time  I  did  it 
I  nearly  ruined  the  dress  I  had  on,  and  so  I  went  to  the 


A  SILK  GOWN  JUtD  'A  'BCrrTLE  lOt 

garret  and  got  this  old  gown^  which  covers  me  up  very 
well,  though  it  looks  dreadfully,  and  is  awfully 
awkward.'^ 

"  To  whom  did  it  belong  ?  "  asked  Dora.  "  It  is  made 
in  such  a  queer  way,  —  not  like  really  old-fashioned 
things." 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  to  whom  it  belonged,"  said 
Miriam.  "There  are  all  sorts  of  things  in  our  garret, 
—  except  things  that  are  good  for  some  particular  pur- 
pose, —  and  this  old  gown  was  the  best  I  could  find  to 
cover  me  up.  It  looks  funny,  but  then  the  whole  of  it 
is  funny,  —  calf-feeding  and  all." 

"  Why  do  you  have  to  make  your  own  bread  ?  "  asked 
Dora.     "  Don't  Phoebe  do  that  ?  " 

"Oh,  Phoebe  isn't  here  now.  She  went  away  nearly 
a  week  ago,  and  I  do  all  the  work.  I  went  to  Thorbury 
and  engaged  a  woman  to  come  here;  but,  as  that  was 
three  days  ago  and  she  has  not  come  yet,  I  think  she 
must  have  changed  her  mind." 

"  But  why  did  Phoebe  leave  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Miss 
Bannister.  "She  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  herself,  to 
leave  you  without  any  one  to  help  you." 

"Well,"  replied  Miriam  "she  said  she  wasn't  regu- 
larly employed,  anyway,  and  there  were  plenty  of  cooks 
in  the  town  that  I  could  get,  and  that  she  was  obliged 
to  go.  You  see,  the  colored  church  in  Thorbury  has 
just  got  a  new  minister,  and  he  has  to  board  some- 
where; and  as  soon  as  Phoebe  heard  that,  she  made 
up  her  mind  to  take  a  house  and  board  him;  and  she 
did  it  before  anybody  else  could  get  the  chance.     Mike^ 


lOS  THE   GIBL   AT  COBHURST 

her  husband,  who  works  for  us,  talked  to  her  and  we 
talked  to  her,  but  it  wasn't  of  any  use.  I  think  she 
considers  it  one  of  the  greatest  honors  in  the  world  to 
board  a  minister.  Mike  does  not  believe  in  that  sort 
of  business,  but  he  says  that  Phoebe  has  always  been 
in  the  habit  of  doing  what  she  wants  to,  and  he  is 
getting  used  to  it.'' 

"But  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  do  all  the  work,'* 
said  Dora. 

"Oh,  well,"  replied  Miriam,  "some  of  it  doesn't  get 
done,  and  some  of  it  I  am  helped  with.  Mike  does 
ever  so  much ;  he  makes  the  fires,  and  carries  the  heavy 
things,  and  sometimes  even  cooks.  My  brother  Ealph 
helps,  too,  when  there  is  anything  he  can  do,  which  is 
not  often ;  but  just  now  they  are  so  busy  with  their 
hay  that  it  is  harder  upon  me  than  it  was  before.  We 
have  had  soda  biscuit  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  but  I 
saw  that  Ealph  was  getting  tired  of  them;  and  to-day 
I  thought  I  would  try  and  make  some  real  bread, — 
though  how  it  is  going  to  turn  out,  I  don't  know." 

"  Come,  let  us  go  out  and  feed  the  calf,"  said  Dora ; 
"  I  really  want  to  see  how  you  do  it.  I  have  come  to 
make  you  a  good  long  call,  you  must  know ; "  and  then 
she  explained  how  her  brother  had  left  her,  while  he 
went  on  to  attend  to  his  business. 

At  this  Miriam  was  much  relieved.  She  had  been 
thinking  that  perhaps  she  would  better  go  upstairs  and 
take  off  that  ridiculous  silk  dress,  and  entertain  her 
visitor  properly  during  the  rest  of  her  call ;  but  if  Miss 
Bannister  was  going  to  stay  a  good  while,  and  if  there 


TWO   GIRLS   AND   A  CALF  103 

was  no  coacliman  outside  to  see  her  and  her  train,  there 
was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  go  and  feed  the  calf, 
and  then  come  back  and  put  herself  into  the  proper 
trim  for  the  reception  of  visitors.  It  seemed  strange 
to  her,  but  she  was  positively  sure  that  she  would  not 
have  felt  so  much  at  ease  with  this  handsomely  dressed 
young  lady,  if  she  herself  had  been  attired  in  her  best 
clothes ;  but  now  they  had  met  without  its  being  pos- 
sible for  either  Miss  Bannister  or  herself  to  make  any 
comparisons  of  attire.  The  old,  draggled  silk  gown  did 
not  count  one  way  or  the  other.  It  was  simply  a  cover- 
ing to  keep  one's  clothes  clean  when  one  fed  a  calf. 
When  they  should  return  to  the  house,  and  she  took 
off  her  old  gown,  she  and  her  visitor  would  be  better 
acquainted,  and  their  comparative  opinions  of  each  other 
would  not  depend  so  much  on  clothes.  Miriam  was 
accustomed  to  making  philosophical  reflections  concern- 
ing her  relations  with  the  rest  of  the  world ;  and  in 
regard  to  these  relations  she  was  at  times  very  sensitive. 


CHAPTER  XI 

TWO    GIRLS    AND    A   CALF 


Having  gone  to  the  kitchen  to  fill  the  bottle  with 
milk,  which  she  had  set  to  warm,  Miriam  accompanied 
her  guest  to  the  barn.  As  she  walked  by  the  side  of 
Dora,  with  the  bottle  in  one  hand  and  the  other  holding 
up  her  voluminous  silk  robe,  it  was  well  for  her  peace 


104  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

of  mind  that  no  stately  coachman  sat  upon  a  box  and 
looked  at  her. 

In  a  corner  of  the  lower  floor  of  the  barn  they  found 
the  calf,  lying  upon  a  bed  of  hay,  and  covered  by  a 
large  piece  of  mosquito  netting,  which  Miriam  had 
fastened  above  and  around  him.  Dora  laughed  as  she 
saw  this. 

"It  isn^t  every  calf,"  she  said,  "that  sleeps  so 
luxuriously." 

"The  flies  worried  the  poor  thing  dreadfully,"  said 
Miriam,  "but  I  take  it  off  when  I  feed  it." 

She  proceeded  to  remove  the  netting,  but  she  had 
scarcely  done  so,  when  she  gave  an  exclamation  that 
was  almost  a  scream. 

"  Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear ! "  she  cried ;  "  I  believe  it  is 
dead,"  and  down  she  sat  upon  the  floor  close  to  the  calf, 
which  lay  motionless,  with  its  head  and  neck  extended. 
Down  also  sat  Dora.  She  did  not  need  to  consider  the 
hay-strewn  floor  and  her  clothes ;  for  although  she  wore 
a  very  tasteful  and  becoming  costume,  it  was  one  she 
had  selected  with  reference  to  barn  explorations,  field 
strolls,  and  anything  rural  and  dusty  which  any  one  else 
might  be  doing,  or  might  propose.  No  one  could  tell 
what  dusty  and  delightful  occupation  might  turn  up  dur- 
ing an  afternoon  at  Cobhurst. 

"Its  eye  does  look  as  if  it  were  dead,"  she  exclaimed. 
"What  a  pity!" 

"Oh,  you  can't  tell  by  that  eye,"  said  Miriam,  over 
whose  cheeks  a  few  tears  were  now  running.  "  Dr.  Tol- 
bridge  says  it  has  infantile  ophthalmia  in  that  eye,  but 


TWO   GIRLS   AND   A  CALF  105 

that  as  soon  as  it  gets  strong  enough,  he  can  cure  it. 
We  must  turn  up  its  other  eye." 

She  took  the  little  creature's  head  in  her  lap,  with 
the  practicable  eye  uppermost.  This  slowly  rolled  in 
its  socket,  as  she  bent  over  it. 

"  There  is  life  in  it  yet,"  she  cried ;  "  give  me  the  bottle." 
The  calf  slowly  rolled  its  eye  to  the  position  from  which 
it  had  just  moved,  and  declined  to  consider  food. 

"Oh,  it  must  drink;  we  must  make  it  drink,"  said 
Miriam.  "  If  I  open  its  mouth,  will  you  put  in  the  end 
of  that  tube  ?  If  it  gets  a  taste  of  the  milk,  it  may  want 
more.  We  must  not  let  it  die.  But  you  must  be  care- 
ful," she  continued.  "That  bottle  leaks  all  round  the 
cork.     Spread  part  of  my  skirt  over  you." 

Dora  followed  this  advice,  for  she  had  not  considered 
a  milk-stained  lap  among  the  contingent  circumstances 
of  the  afternoon.  Holding  the  bottle  over  the  listless 
animal,  she  managed  to  get  some  drops  on  its  tongue. 

"  Now,"  said  Miriam,  "  we  will  put  that  in  its  mouth, 
and  shut  its  jaws,  and  perhaps  it  may  begin  to  suck.  It 
will  be  perfectly  dreadful  if  it  dies." 

The  two  girls  sat  close  together,  their  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  apparently  lifeless  head  of  the  bovine  infant. 

"  See ! "  cried  Miriam,  presently,  "  its  throat  moves ;  I 
believe  it  is  sucking  the  milk." 

Dora  leaned  over  and  gazed.  It  was  indeed  true ;  the 
calf  was  beginning  to  take  an  interest  in  food.  The 
interest  increased;  the  girls  could  see  the  milk  slowly 
diminishing  in  the  bottle.  Before  long  the  creature  gave 
its  head  a  little  wobble.    Miriam  was  delighted. 


106  THE   GIRL  AT  COBHtlRST 

"  That  is  the  way  it  always  does,  when  its  appetite  is 
good.     We  must  let  it  drink  every  drop,  if  it  will." 

There  they  sat  on  the  hard,  hay-strewn  floor,  one 
entirely,  and  the  other  almost  entirely  covered  with 
purple  silk,  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  bottle  and  the  feed- 
ing calf.  After  a  time  the  latter  declined  to  take  any 
more  milk,  and  raised  its  head  from  Miriam's  lap. 

"  There,"  she  cried ;  "  see,  it  can  hold  up  its  own  head. 
I  expect  it  was  only  faint  from  want  of  food.  After 
this  I  will  feed  it  oftener.  It  was  the  bread-making 
that  made  me  forget  it  this  time." 

"  Let  us  wait  a  minute,"  said  Dora,  who  was  now  tak- 
ing an  earnest  and  womanly  interest  in  the  welfare  of 
this  weakling.  "Perhaps  after  a  while  it  may  want 
some  more."  And  so  they  continued  to  sit.  Every 
motion  of  the  calf's  head,  and  every  effort  it  made  to 
bend  its  legs,  or  change  its  position,  sent  sparkles  of 
delight  into  Miriam's  eyes,  and  brightened  Dora's  beauti- 
ful face  with  sympathetic  smiles. 

Dora  had  taken  up  the  bottle,  and  was  about  to  give 
the  calf  an  opportunity  to  continue  its  repast,  when 
suddenly  she  stopped  and  sat  motionless.  Outside  the 
barn,  approaching  footsteps  could  be  plainly  heard. 
They  were  heavy,  apparently  those  of  a  man.  Dora 
dropped  the  bottle,  letting  it  roll  unheeded  upon  the 
floor ;  then  pushing  Miriam's  skirt  from  her  lap,  she 
sprang  to  her  feet,  and  stepped  backwards  and  away 
from  the  little  group  so  quickly,  that  she  nearly  stum- 
bled over  some  inequalities  in  the  floor.  Miriam  looked 
jip  in  astonishment. 


TWO  GIRLS  AND  A  CALF  107 

"You  needn't  be  frightened,"  she  said.  "How  red 
you  are !     I  suppose  it  is  only  Kalph." 

"I  was  afraid  it  was,"  said  Dora,  in  a  low  voice,  as 
she  shook  out  her  skirts.  "I  wouldn't  have  had  him 
see  me  that  way  for  anything." 

Now  Miriam  was  angry.  There  was  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of,  that  she  could  see,  and  it  was  certainly 
very  rude  in  Miss  Bannister  to  drop  her  bottle,  and 
nearly  push  her  over  in  her  haste  to  get  away  from 
her  and  her  poor  calf. 

The  person  who  had  been  approaching  the  bam  now 
entered,  but  it  was  not  Ralph  Haverley.  It  was  a 
shorter  and  a  stouter  young  man,  with   side  whiskers. 

"  Why,  Herbert ! "  exclaimed  Dora,  in  a  tone  of  sur- 
prise and  disappointment,  "  have  you  got  back  already  ?  " 

Her  brother  smiled.  "  I  haven't  got  back,"  he  said, 
"  for  I  haven't  been  anywhere  yet.  I  had  not  gone  a 
mile  before  one  of  the  springs  of  the  buggy  broke,  and 
it  keeled  over  so  far  that  I  came  near  tumbling  out.  It 
happened  at  a  place  where  there  were  no  houses  near, 
so  I  drew  the  buggy  to  the  roadside,  took  out  the  horse, 
and  led  him  back.  I  heard  voices  in  here,  and  I  came 
in.  I  must  go  and  look  for  Mr.  Haverley,  and  ask  him 
to  lend  me  a  vehicle  in  which  we  may  return  home. 

Dora  stood  annoyed ;  she  did  not  want  to  return  home ; 
at  least,  not  so  soon.  She  had  calculated  on  Herbert 
making  a  long  stay  with  Mrs.  Dudley. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  she  replied,  in  an  injured  tone ;  "  but 
before  we  say  anything  else,  Herbert,  let  me  introduce 
you  to  Miss  Haverley." 


108  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

She  turned,  but  in  the  corner  to  which  she  directed 
her  eyes,  she  saw  only  a  calf ;  there  was  no  young  per- 
son in  silk  attire.  The  moment  that  Miriam  perceived 
that  the  man  who  came  in  was  not  her  brother,  but  the 
brother  of  some  one  else,  her  face  had  crimsoned,  she 
had  pushed  away  the  unfortunate  calf,  and,  springing  to 
her  feet,  had  darted  into  the  shadows  of  an  adjoining 
stall.  From  this,  before  Dora  had  recovered  from  her 
surprise  at  not  seeing  her,  Miriam  emerged  in  the  cos- 
tume of  a  neatly  dressed  school-girl,  with  her  skirts  just 
reaching  to  the  tops  of  her  boots.  It  had  been  an  easy 
matter  to  slip  off  that  expansive  silk  gown.  She  ad- 
vanced with  the  air  of  defensive  gravity  with  which  she 
generally  greeted  strangers,  and  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Mr.  Bannister. 

"  I  am  sure,"  she  said,  when  she  had  heard  what  had 
happened,  "  that  my  brother  will  be  very  glad  to  lend 
you  the  gig.  That  is  the  only  thing  we  have  at  present 
which  runs  properly." 

"  A  gig  will  do  very  well,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Bannis- 
ter. "We  could  not  want  anything  better  than  that; 
although,"  he  continued,  "I  am  not  sure  that  my  harness 
will  suit  a  two-wheeled  vehicle." 

"  Oh,  we  have  gig  harness,"  said  Miriam,  "  and  we  will 
lend  you  a  horse,  too,  if  you  like." 

Dora  now  thought  it  was  time  to  say  something.  She 
was  irritated  because  Herbert  had  returned  so  soon,  and 
because  he  was  going  to  take  her  away  before  she  was 
ready  to  go ;  and  although  she  would  have  been  de- 
lighted to  have  a  drive  in  the  Cobhurst  gig,  provided 


TWO  GIRLS  AND  A  CALF  109 

the  proper  person  drove  her,  she  did  not  at  all  wish  to 
return  to  Thorbury  in  that  ridiculous  old  vehicle  with 
Herbert.  In  the  one  case,  she  could  imagine  a  delight- 
ful excursion  in  she  knew  not  what  romantic  by-roads 
and  shaded  lanes ;  but  in  the  other,  she  saw  only  the 
jogging  old  gig,  and  all  the  neighbors  asking  what  had 
happened  to  them. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  it  will  be  well  to  see  Mr.  Haver- 
ley  as  soon  as  possible.  Perhaps  he  knows  of  a  black- 
smith's shop,  where  the  buggy  can  be  mended." 

Herbert  smiled.  ^'  Eepairs  of  that  sort,"  he  said,  "  re- 
quire a  good  deal  of  time.  If  we  waited  for  the  buggy 
to  be  put  in  travelling  condition,  we  would  certainly 
have  to  stay  here  all  night,  and  probably  the  greater 
part  of  to-morrow." 

In  the  sudden  emotions  which  had  caused  her  to  act 
almost  exactly  as  Dora  had  acted,  Miriam  had  entirely 
forgotten  her  resentment  toward  her  companion. 

"Why  can't  you  stay?"  she  asked.  "We  have 
plenty  of  room,  you  know." 

The  man  of  business  shook  his  head. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  he  replied,  "  but  I  must  be 
in  my  office  this  evening.  I  think  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
borrow  your  gig.     I  will  walk  over  to  the  field — " 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  take  the  trouble  to  do  that,"  said 
Miriam.  "They  are  way  over  there  at  the  end  of  the 
meadow  beyond  the  hill.  The  gig  is  here  in  the  barn, 
and  I  can  lend  it  to  you  just  as  well  as  he  can." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Herbert,  "  and  I  will  accept 
your  amendment.    It  will  be  the  better  plan,  because 


110  THE   GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

if  I  saw  your  brother,  I  should  certainly  interfere  with 
his  work.  He  might  insist  upon  coming  to  help  me, 
which  is  not  at  all  necessary.  Where  can  I  find  the 
gig.  Miss  Haverley?" 

Miriam  led  her  visitors  to  the  second  floor. 

"  There  it  is,"  she  said,  "  but  of  course  you  must  have 
the  harness  belonging  to  it,  for  your  buggy  harness  will 
not  hold  up  the  shafts  properly.  It  is  in  the  harness 
room,  but  I  do  not  know  which  it  is.  There  is  a  lot  of 
harness  there,  but  it  is  mostly  old  and  worn  out." 

"I  will  go  and  look,"  said  Herbert.  "I  think  it  is 
only  part  of  it  that  I  shall  need." 

During  this  conversation  Dora  had  said  nothing. 
Now  as  she  stood  by  the  old  gig,  toppling  forward  with 
its  shafts  resting  upon  the  floor,  she  thought  she  had 
never  seen  such  a  horrible,  antediluvian  old  trap  in  her 
life.  Nothing  could  add  so  much  to  her  disappoint- 
ment in  going  so  soon,  as  going  in  that  thing.  If 
there  had  been  anything  to  say  which  might  prevent 
her  brother  from  carrying  out  his  intention,  she  would 
have  said  it,  but  so  far  there  had  been  nothing. 

She  followed  the  others  into  the  harness  room,  and  as 
her  eyes  glanced  around  the  walls,  they  rested  upon  a 
saddle  hanging  on  its  peg.  Instantly  she  thought  of 
something  to  say. 

"Herbert,"  she  remarked,  not  too  earnestly,  "I  think 
we  shall  be  putting  our  friends  to  a  great  inconvenience 
by  borrowing  the  gig.  You  will  never  be  able  to  find 
the  right  harness  and  put  it  on  so  that  there  will  not  be 
an  accident  on  the  road,  and  Mr.  Haverley  or  the  man 


TWO   GIRLS   AND   A  CALF  111 

will  have  to  be  sent  for.  And,  besides,  there  will  be 
the  trouble  of  getting  the  gig  back  again.  Kow,  don^t 
you  think  it  will  be  a  great  deal  better  for  you  to  put 
that  saddle  on  the  horse,  and  ride  him  home,  and  then 
send  the  carriage  for  me  ?  That  would  be  very  simple, 
and  no  trouble  at  all." 

Mr.  Bannister  turned  his  admiring  eyes  upon  his 
sister. 

"I  declare,  Dora,"  he  said,  "that  is  a  good  practical 
suggestion.  If  Miss  Haverley  will  allow  me,  I  will 
borrow  the  saddle  and  the  bridle  and  ride  home ;  I  shall 
like  that." 

"Of  course  you  are  welcome  to  the  saddle,  if  you 
wish  it,"  said  Miriam ;  "  but  you  need  not  send  for  your 
sister.  Why  can't  she  stay  with  me  to-night  ?  I  think 
it  would  be  splendid  to  have  a  girl  spend  the  night  with 
me.  Perhaps  I  oughtn't  to  call  you  a  girl,  Miss  Ban- 
nister." 

Dora's  eyes  sparkled.  "  But  I  am  a  girl,  just  as  you 
are,"  she  exclaimed,  "  and  I  should  be  delighted  to  stay. 
You  are  very  good  to  propose  it.  Herbert  is  an  awfully 
slow  rider  (I  believe  he  always  walks  his  horse),  and  I 
am  sure  it  would  be  after  dark  before  the  carriage  would 
get  here." 

"Do  let  her  stay,"  cried  Miriam,  seizing  Dora's  arm, 
as  if  they  had  been  old  friends ;  "  I  shall  be  so  glad  to 
have  her." 

Mr.  Bannister  laughed. 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  say  what  Dora  shall  do,"  he 
replied.    "  You  two  must  decide  that,  and  if  I  go  home  to 


112  a?HE  GIRL  AT  COBHtJEST 

repott  our  safety,  it  will  be  all  right.  It  is  now  too  late 
for  me  to  go  to  Mrs.  Dudley's,  especially  as  I  ride  so 
slowly;  but  I  will  drive  there  to-morrow,  and  stop  for 
Dora  on  my  return." 

"  Settled ! "  cried  Miriam ;  and  Dora  gazed  at  her  with 
radiant  face.  It  was  delightful  to  be  able  to  bestow 
such  pleasure. 

In  two  minutes  Mr.  Bannister  had  brought  in  his 
horse.  In  the  next  minute  all  three  of  the  party  were 
busy  unbuckling  his  harness;  in  ten  minutes  more  it 
had  been  taken  off,  the  saddle  and  bridle  substituted, 
and  Mr.  Bannister  was  riding  to  Thorbury. 

Dora  of  the  sparkling  eyes  drew  close  to  Miriam. 

"  Would  you  mind  my  kissing  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  warm  young  soul  of  the 
other  girl  which  in  the  least  objected  to  this  token  of  a 
new-born  friendship. 

As  Dora  and  Miriam,  each  with  an  arm  around  the 
waist  of  the  other,  walked  out  of  the  barn  and  passed  the 
lower  story,  the  calf,  who  had  been  the  main  instrument 
in  bringing  about  the  cordial  relations  between  the  two, 
raised  his  head  and  gazed  at  them  with  his  good  eye. 
Then  perceiving  that  they  had  forgotten  him,  and  were 
going  away  without  even  arranging  his  mosquito  net  for 
the  night,  he  slowly  turned  his  clouded  visual  organ  in 
their  direction,  and  composed  himself  to  rest. 


TO  BAT  WITH  THE  FAMILY  113 

CHAPTER  XII 

TO   EAT  WITH   THE   FAMILY 

As  the  two  girls  entered  the  house,  Miriam  clapped 
her  hands. 

"What  a  surprise  this  will  be  for  Ralph!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "He  hasn't  the  slightest  idea  that  you  are 
here,  or  that  anybody  is  going  to  spend  the  night  with 
us.  If  Mike  said  anything  about  you  and  your  brother, 
—  which  I  doubt,  for  he  is  awfully  anxious  to  get  in  that 
hay, —  Ralph  thought,  of  course,  that  you  were  both  gone 
long  ago." 

The  situation  suited  Dora's  fancy  admirably. 

"  Let  us  make  it  a  regular  surprise,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
going  to  help  you  to  get  supper,  and  to  do  whatever  you 
have  to  do.  Suppose  you  don't  tell  your  brother  that  I 
am  here,  and  let  him  find  it  out  by  degrees.  Don't  you 
think  that  will  be  fun  ?  " 

"  Indeed  it  will,"  cried  the  other ;  "  and  if  you  don't 
mind  helping  a  little  about  the  cooking,  I  think  that  will 
be  fun  too.  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  some  things  I  don't 
know." 

"Let  us  begin,"  exclaimed  Dora,  "for  everything 
ought  to  be  ready  before  he  comes  in.  Can  you  lend  me 
a  big  apron  ?  " 

"I  have  only  one,"  said  Miriam,  "and  it  is  not  very 
big ;  I  intended  to  make  some  more,  but  I  haven't  had 
I 


114  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHTJEST 

time.  But  you  needn't  do  anything,  you  know.  You 
can  just  give  me  advice  and  keep  me  company." 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  do  things.  I  want  to  work,"  cried 
Dora ;  "  it  would  be  cruel  to  keep  me  from  the  fun  of 
helping  you  get  supper.  Haven't  you  something  I  can 
slip  on  instead  of  this  dress  ?  It  is  not  very  fine,  but  I 
don't  want  to  spatter  or  burn  it." 

"None  of  my  clothes  are  long  enough  for  you,"  said 
Miriam;  "but  perhaps  I  might  find  something  in  the 
garret.  There  are  all  sorts  of  clothes  up  there.  If  you 
choose,  we  can  go  up  and  look." 

In  the  next  minute  the  two  girls  were  in  the  great 
garret,  kneeling  in  front  of  a  trunk,  in  which  Miriam  had 
found  the  silk  robe,  which  now  lay  tumbled  up  in  a 
corner  of  a  stall  in  the  cow-stable.  Article  after  article 
of  female  attire  was  drawn  out  and  tossed  on  the  floor. 
Dora  was  delighted;  she  was  fond  of  old-fashioned 
things,  and  here  were  clothes  of  various  eras.  Some 
colonial,  perhaps,  and  none  that  had  been  worn  since 
these  two  girls  had  come  into  the  world.  There  was  a 
calico  dress  with  large  pink  figures  in  it  which  caught 
Dora's  eye ;  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  shook  it  out,  and  held 
it  up  before  her. 

"  This  will  do,"  she  said.  "  The  length  is  all  right, 
and  it  does  not  matter  about  the  rest  of  the  fit." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Miriam ;  "  and  now  let  us  g( 
down.  We  need  not  wait  to  put  the  rest  of  the  things 
back." 

As  Dora  was  about  to  go,  her  eyes  fell  on  an  old- 
fashioned  pink  sunbonnet. 


TO  EAT   WITH   THE  FAMILY  116 

"  If  you  don^t  mind/'  she  said,  "  I  will  take  that,  too. 
I  shall  be  awfully  awkward,  and  I  don't  want  to  get 
cinders  or  flour  in  my  hair." 

When  Dora  had  arrayed  herself  in  the  calico  dress 
with  pink  flowers,  she  stood  for  a  moment  before  the 
large  mirror  in  Miriam's  room.  The  dress  was  very 
short  as  to  waist,  and  very  perpendicular  as  to  skirt,  and 
the  sleeves  were  puffy  at  the  elbows  and  tight  about 
the  wrists,  but  pink  was  a  color  that  became  her,  the 
quaint  cut  of  the  gown  was  well  suited  to  her  blooming 
face,  and  altogether  she  was  pleased  with  the  picture 
in  the  glass.  As  for  the  sunbonnet,  that  was  simply 
hideous,  but  it  could  be  taken  off  when  she  chose,  and 
the  wearing  of  it  would  help  her  very  much  in  making 
herself  known  to  Mr.  Ralph  Haverley. 

For  half  an  hour  the  girls  worked  bravely  in  the 
kitchen.  Dora  had  some  knowledge  of  the  principles  of 
cookery,  though  her  practice  had  been  small,  and  Miriam 
possessed  an  undaunted  courage  in  culinary  enterprises. 
However,  they  planned  nothing  difficult,  and  got  on  very 
well.  Dora  made  up  some  of  Miriam's  dough  into  little 
rolls. 

"I  wish  I  could  make  these  as  the  Tolbridges'  new 
cook  makes  them.  They  say  that  every  morning  she 
sends  in  a  plate  of  breakfast  rolls,  each  one  a  different 
shape,  and  some  of  them  ever  so  pretty." 

"I  don't  suppose  they  taste  any  better  for  that,"  re- 
marked Miriam. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  the  other,  "  but  I  like  to  see  things 
to  eat  look  pretty."    And  she  did  her  best  to  shape  the 


116  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

little  rolls  into  such  forms  that  they  might  please  the 
eye  of  Mr.  Balph  as  well  as  satisfy  his  palate. 

Miriam  went  up  to  the  dining-room  to  arrange  the 
table.  While  doing  this  she  saw  Ralph  approaching 
from  the  barn.  In  the  kitchen,  below,  Dora,  glancing 
out  of  the  window,  also  saw  him  coming,  and  pulling  her 
sunbonnet  well  forward,  she  applied  herself  more  ear- 
nestly to  her  work.  Ealph  came  in,  tired  and  warm,  and 
threw  himself  down  on  a  long  horse-hair  sofa  in  the 
hall. 

" Heigh  ho,  Miriam,"  he  cried ;  "hay-making  is  a  jolly 
thing,  all  the  world  over,  but  I  have  had  enough  of  it  for 
to-day.  How  are  you  getting  on,  little  one  ?  Don't  put 
yourself  to  too  much  trouble  about  my  supper.  Only 
give  me  enough  of  whatever  you  have ;  that  is  all  I  ask." 

"  Ralph,"  said  Miriam,  standing  gravely  by  him,  "  I 
did  not  have  to  get  supper  all  by  myself ;  there  is  a  new 
girl  in  the  kitchen." 

"  Good,"  cried  Ralph ;  "  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that. 
When  did  she  come  ?  " 

"This  afternoon,"  said  Miriam,  "and  she  is  cooking 
supper  now.  But,  Ralph,"  she  continued,  "there  is 
hardly  any  wood  in  the  kitchen.  We  have  —  she  has 
used  up  nearly  all  that  was  brought  in  this  morning." 

"  Well,"  said  Ralph,  "  there  is  plenty  of  it  cut,  in  the 
woodhouse." 

"But,  Ralph,"  said  Miriam,  "I  don't  like  to  ask  her 
to  go  after  the  wood,  herself,  and  some  is  needed  now." 

"  Mike  is  just  as  busy  as  he  can  be  down  at  the  barn,"* 
said  her  brother,  "  and  I  cannot  call  him  now.     If  youi 


TO  BAT  WITH  THE  FAMILY  117 

show  her  the  woodhouse,  she  can  get  what  she  wants 
with  very  little  trouble,  and  Mike  will  bring  in  a  lot  of 
it  to-night." 

"But,  Ealph,"  persisted  his  sister,  "I  don't  want  to 
ask  her  to  stop  her  cooking  and  go  out  and  get  wood. 
It  does  not  look  like  good  management,  for  one  thing, 
and  for  other  reasons  I  do  not  want  to  do  it.  Don't  you 
think  you  could  bring  her  some  wood?  Just  a  little 
basketful  of  short  sticks  will  do." 

Ealph  sat  up  and  knitted  his  brows.  "  Miriam,"  said 
he,  "  if  your  new  cook  is  the  right  sort  of  a  woman,  she 
ought  to  be  able  to  help  herself  in  emergencies  of  this 
kind,  with  the  woodhouse  not  a  dozen  yards  from  the 
kitchen.  But  as  she  is  a  stranger  to  the  place,  and  I 
don't  want  to  discourage  anybody  who  comes  to  help 
you,  I  will  get  some  wood  for  her,  but  I  must  say  that 
it  does  not  look  very  well  for  the  lord  of  the  manor  to 
be  carrying  fuel  to  the  cook." 

"  It  isn't  the  lord  of  the  manor,"  cried  Miriam ;  "  it  is 
the  head  hay-maker,  and  when  you  dress  yourself  for 
supper,  she  will  never  think  of  you  as  the  man  who 
brought  in  the  wood." 

Dora,  from  the  kitchen  window,  saw  Ralph  go  out  to 
the  woodhouse,  and  she  saw  him  returning  with  an  arm- 
load of  small  sticks.  Then  she  turned  her  back  to  the 
kitchen  door,  and  bent  her  head  over  a  beefsteak  she 
was  preparing  for  the  gridiron. 

Ralph  came  in  with  the  wood,  and  put  it  down  by  the 
side  of  the  great  stove.  As  he  glanced  at  the  slight  form 
in  the  pink  gown,  it  struck  him  that  this  woman  would 


118  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUKST 

not  be  equal  to  the  hard  work  which  would  be  sometimes 
necessary  here. 

"I  suppose  this  wood  will  be  as  much  as  you  will 
want  for  the  present,"  he  said,  as  he  turned  toward  the 
door,  "  and  the  man  will  fill  this  box  to-night,  but  if  you 
need  any  more  before  he  does  so,  there  is  the  woodhouse 
just  across  the  yard,  where  you  can  easily  get  a  few 
sticks." 

Dora  half  turned  herself  in  the  direction  of  the  wood- 
house,  and  murmured,  "  Yes,  sir." 

"Miriam,"  said  Ealph,  as  he  went  into  the  dining- 
room,  where  his  sister  was  putting  the  knives  and  forks 
upon  the  supper  table,  "do  you  think  that  woman  is 
strong  enough  to  wash,  iron,  and  do  all  the  things  that 
Phoebe  used  to  do  when  she  was  here  ?    How  old  is  she  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  exactly,"  answered  Miriam,  going  to  a 
cupboard  for  some  glasses;  "and  as  to  rough  work,  I 
can't  tell  what  she  can  do,  until  she  tries." 

When  Ealph  had  made  his  toilet  and  come  downstairs, 
attired  in  a  very  becoming  summer  suit,  his  sister  com- 
plimented him. 

"Hay-making  makes  you  ever  so  much  handsomer," 
she  said;  "you  look  as  if  you  had  been  on  a  yachting 
cruise.  There  is  one  thing  I  forgot  to  say  to  you,  but  I 
do  not  suppose  it  will  make  any  difference,  as  we  are 
real  country  people  now :  our  new  cook  is  accustomed  to 
eating  at  the  table  with  the  family." 

Ralph's  face  flushed.  "  Upon  my  word ! "  he  exclaimed, 
staring  at  his  sister.  "Well,"  he  continued,  "I  don't 
care  what  she  is  accustomed  to,  but  she  cannot  eat  at  our 


TO  EAT  WITH  THE  FAMILY  119 

table.  I  may  carry  wood  for  cooks,  but  I  do  not  eat 
with  them.'' 

"But,  Ealph,"  said  Miriam,  "you  ought  to  consider 
the  circumstances.  She  is  not  a  common  Irishwoman, 
or  German.  She  is  an  American,  and  has  always  taken 
her  meals  with  the  family  in  which  she  lived.  I  could 
not  ask  her  to  eat  in  the  kitchen.  You  know,  Mike 
takes  his  meals  there  since  Phoebe  has  gone.  Indeed, 
Ealph,  I  cannot  expect  her  to  do  a  thing  that  she  has 
never  done  in  her  life,  before.  Do  you  really  think  you 
would  mind  it  ?  You  work  with  Mike  in  the  field,  and 
you  don't  mind  that,  and  this  girl  is  very  respectable,  I 
assure  you." 

Ealph  stood  silent.  He  had  supposed  his  sister,  young 
as  she  was,  knew  more  of  the  world  than  to  make  an 
arrangement  with  a  servant  which  would  put  her,  in 
many  respects,  on  an  equality  with  themselves.  He  was 
very  much  annoyed,  but  he  would  not  be  angry  with 
Miriam,  if  he  could  help  it,  nor  would  he  put  her  in  the 
embarrassing  position  of  revoking  the  agreement  with 
this  American  woman,  probably  a  farmer's  daughter,  and, 
in  her  own  opinion,  as  good  as  anybody.  But,  although 
he  might  yield  at  present,  he  determined  to  take  the  im- 
portant matter  of  engaging  domestic  servants  into  his 
own  hands.  His  sister  had  not  yet  the  necessary  judg- 
ment for  that  sort  of  thing. 

"Miriam,"  said  he,  "for  how  long  have  you  engaged 
this  woman  ?  " 

"Nothing  at  all  has  been  said  about  time,"  she 
answered. 


120  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

''Very  well,  then,"  said  he,  "she  can  come  to  the 
table  to-night  and  to-morrow  morning,  for,  I  suppose,  if 
I  object,  she  will  go  off  and  leave  you  again  without 
anybody,  but  to-morrow  she  must  be  told  that  she  can- 
not eat  with  us ;  and  if  she  does  not  like  that,  she  must 
leave,  and  I  will  go  to  the  city  and  get  you  a  proper 
servant.  The  hay  is  in  now,  and  there  is  no  more  im- 
portant work  to  which  I  could  give  a  day.  Now  do  not 
be  angry,  little  one,  because  I  object  to  your  domestic 
arrangements.  We  all  have  to  make  mistakes,  you 
know,  when  we  begin." 

"  Thank  you,  Ealph,"  said  Miriam.  "  I  really  am  ever 
so  much  obliged  to  you,"  and  going  up  to  her  brother, 
she  lifted  her  face  to  his.  Ralph  stooped  to  kiss  her, 
but  suddenly  stopped. 

"  Who,  in  the  name  of  common  sense,  is  that ! "  he 
exclaimed.  The  sound  of  wheels  was  plainly  heard 
upon  the  driveway,  and  turning,  they  saw  a  buggy  stop 
at  the  door. 

"  It  is  Dr.  Tolbridge ! "  cried  Miriam. 

Through  the  open  front  door  Ealph  saw  that  it  was 
the  doctor,  preparing  to  alight. 

"  Miriam,"  said  he,  quickly,  "  we  must  ask  the  doctor 
to  stay  to  supper,  and  if  he  does,  that  cook  must  not 
come  to  the  table.  It  will  not  do  at  all,  as  you  can  see 
for  yourself.  We  cannot  ask  our  friends  and  neighbors 
to  sit  down  with  servants." 

"  I  will  see,"  said  Miriam.  "  I  think  that  can  be  made 
all  right,"  and  they  both  went  to  the  door  to  meet  their 
visitor. 


TO   EAT   WITH  THE  FAMILY  121 

The  doctor  shook  hands  with  them  most  cordially. 

"  Glad  to  see  you  both  so  ruddy ;  Cobhurst  air  must 
agree  with  you.  And  now,  before  we  say  anything 
else,  let  me  ask  you  a  question :  Have  you  had  your 
supper  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Ealph,  "  and  I  hope  you  have  not." 

"  Your  hopes  are  realized.  I  have  not,  and  if  you  do 
not  mind  letting  me  sup  with  you,  I  will  do  it." 

The  brother  and  sister,  who  both  liked  the  hearty 
doctor,  assured  him  that  they  would  be  delighted  to 
have  him  stay. 

"  The  reason  of  my  extending  an  invitation  to  myself 
is  this:  I  have  been  making  a  visit  in  the  country, 
where  I  was  detained  much  longer  than  I  expected,  and 
as  I  drove  homeward,  I  said  to  myself,  ^  Good  sir,  you 
are  hungry,  and  where  are  you  going  to  get  your  even- 
ing meal  ?  You  cannot  reach  home  until  long  after  the 
dinner  hour,  and  moreover  you  have  a  patient  beyond 
Cobhurst,  whom  you  ought  to  see  this  evening.  It 
would  be  a  great  pity  to  drive  all  the  way  to  Thorbury, 
and  then  back  again,  to-night.  Now  there  are  those 
young  Cobhurst  people,  who,  you  know,  have  supper 
at  the  end  of  the  day,  instead  of  dinner,  like  the  regular 
farmers  that  they  are,  and  as  you  want  to  see  them, 
anyway,  and  find  out  how  they  are  getting  on,  it  will 
be  well  to  stop  there,  and  ten  to  one,  you  will  find  that 
they  haVB  not  yet  sat  down  to  the  table.' " 

"A  rjost  excellent  conclusion,"  said  Ealph,  "and  I 
will  caU  Mike,  and  have  him  take  your  horse." 

IJavifig  left,  ttiiB  doctqr  ija  the  charge  pf  ^er  bi^otter^ 


122  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

Miriam  hurried  downstairs  to  apprise  Dora  of  the 
state  of  affairs. 

^^  I  am  sorry/'  she  said,  "  but  we  will  have  to  give  up 
the  trick  we  were  going  to  play  on  Ealph,  for  Dr.  Tol- 
bridge  has  come,  and  will  stay  to  supper,  and  so,  while 
you  go  upstairs  and  put  on  your  own  dress,  I  will 
finish  getting  these  things  ready.  I  will  see  Ealph 
before  we  sit  down,  and  tell  him  all  about  it." 

Dora  made  no  movement  toward  the  stairs. 

"  I  knew  it  was  the  doctor,"  she  said,  "  for  I  went  out 
and  looked  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  and  saw  his 
horse.  But  I  do  not  see  why  we  should  give  up  our 
trick.  Let  us  play  it  on  the  doctor  as  well  as  on  your 
brother." 

Miriam  stood  silent  a  few  moments. 

^^  I  do  not  know  how  that  would  do,"  she  said.  "  That 
is  a  very  different  thing.  And  besides,  I  do  not  believe 
Ealph  would  let  you  come  to  the  table.  You  ought  to 
have  seen  how  angry  he  was  when  I  told  him  the  new 
cook  must  eat  with  us." 

"  Oh,  that  was  splendid  ! "  cried  Dora.  "  I  will  not 
come  to  the  table.  That  will  make  it  all  the  funnier 
when  we  tell  him.  I  can  eat  my  supper  anywhere,  and 
I  will  go  upstairs  and  wait  on  you,  which  will  be  better 
sport  than  sitting  down  at  the  table  with  you." 

"But  I  do  not  like  that,"  said  Miriam.  "I  will  not 
have  you  go  without  your  supper  until  we  have  finished." 

"  My  dear  Miriam !  "  exclaimed  Dora,  "  what  is  a  sup- 
per in  comparison  with  such  a  jolly  bit  of  fun  as  this? 
Let  me  go  on  as  the  new  cook.     And  now  we  must  hurry 


DORA'S  NEW  MIND  123 

and  get  these  things  on  the  table.  It  will  make  things 
a  great  deal  easier  for  me,  if  they  can  eat  before  it  is 
time  to  light  the  lamps/' 

When  Miriam  went  to  call  the  gentlemen  to  supper, 
the  doctor  said  to  her :  — 

"  Your  brother  has  told  me  that  you  have  a  new  ser- 
vant, and  that  she  is  so  preposterous  as  to  wish  to  take 
her  meals  with  you,  but  that  he  does  not  intend  to  allow 
it.  Kow,  I  say  to  you,  as  I  said  to  him,  that  if  she  ex- 
pected to  sit  at  the  table  before  I  came,  she  must  do  it 
now.  I  am  used  to  that  sort  of  thing,  and  do  not  mind 
it  a  bit.  In  the  families  of  the  farmers  about  here,  with 
whom  I  often  take  a  meal,  it  is  the  custom  for  the 
daughter  of  the  family  to  cook,  to  wait  on  the  table,  and 
then  sit  down  with  whomever  may  be  there,  kings  or 
cobblers.  I  beg  that  you  will  not  let  my  coming  make 
trouble  in  your  household." 

Miriam  looked  at  her  brother. 

"  All  right,"  said  Kalph,  with  a  smile,  "  if  the  doctor 
does  not  mind,  I  shall  not.  And  now,  do  let  us  have 
something  to  eat." 


CHAPTEE  XIII 
dora's  new  mind 


When  Ealph  Haverley  made  up  his  mind  to  agree  to 
anything,  he  did  it  with  his  whole  soul,  and  if  he  had 
had  any  previous  prejudices  against  it,  he  dismissed 
them  I   so  as  he  sat  at  supper  with  the  doctor  and  hig 


124  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

sister  lie  was  very  much  amused  at  being  waited  upon 
by  a  woman  in  a  pink  sunbonnet.  That  she  should 
wear  such  a  head-covering  in  the  house  was  funny 
enough  in  itself,  but  the  rest  of  her  dress  was  also  ex- 
tremely odd,  and  she  kept  the  front. of  her  dark  project- 
ing bonnet  turned  downward  or  away,  as  if  she  had 
never  served  gentlemen  before,  and  was  very  much  over- 
powered by  bashfulness.  But  for  all  that  she  waited 
very  well,  and  with  a  light  quickness  of  movement 
unusual  in  a  servant. 

"I  am  afraid,  doctor,"  said  Miriam,  when  the  pink 
figure  had  gone  downstairs  to  replenish  the  plate  of  rolls, 
"  that  you  will  miss  your  dinner.  I  have  heard  that  you 
have  a  most  wonderful  cook." 

"  She  is  indeed  a  mistress  of  her  art,"  replied  the  doc- 
tor ;  "  but  you  do  very  well  here,  I  am  sure.  That  new 
cook  of  yours  beats  Phoebe  utterly.  I  know  Phoebe's 
cooking." 

"  But  you  must  not  give  her  all  the  credit,"  exclaimed 
Miriam ;  "  I  made  that  bread,  although  she  shaped  it  into 
rolls.  And  I  helped  with  the  beefsteak,  the  potatoes, 
and  the  coffee." 

"  Which  latter,"  said  Ealph,  "  is  as  strong  as  if  six  or 
seven  women  had  made  it,  although  it  is  very  good." 

The  meal  went  on  until  the  two  hungry  men  were 
satisfied,  Miriam  being  so  absorbed  in  Dora's  skilful 
management  of  herself  that  she  scarcely  thought  about 
eating.  There  was  a  place  for  the  woman  in  pink,  if 
she  chose  to  take  it,  but  she  evidently  did  not  wish  to 
sit  down.    Whenever  she  was  not  occupied  in  waiting 


Dora's  new  mind  125 

upon  those  at  the  table,  she  bethought  herself  of  some 
errand  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Well,"  said  Ralph,  "  those  rolls  are  made  up  so  pret- 
tily, and  look  so  tempting,  that  I  wish  I  had  not  finished 
my  supper." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  doctor,  "  they  are  aesthetic 
enough  for  La  Fleur,"  and  then  pushing  back  his  chair 
a  little,  he  looked  steadfastly,  with  a  slight  smile  on  his 
face,  at  the  figure,  with  bowed  sunbonnet,  which  was 
standing  on  the  other  side  of  the  table. 

"  Well,  young  woman,"  he  said,  "  how  is  your  mind  by 
this  time  ?  " 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  and  then  from  out  of  the 
sunbonnet  there  came,  clearly  and  distinctly,  the  words :  — 

"  That  is  very  well.     How  is  your  kitten  ?  " 

At  this  interchange  of  remarks,  Ralph  sat  up  straight 
in  his  chair,  amazement  in  his  countenance,  while 
Miriam,  ready  to  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  waited 
convulsively  to  see  what  would  happen  next.  Turning 
suddenly  toward  Ralph,  Dora  tore  off  her  sunbonnet 
and  dashed  it  to  the  floor.  Standing  there  with  her  di- 
shevelled hair,  her  flushed  cheeks,  her  sparkling  eyes  and 
her  quaint  gown,  Ralph  thought  her  the  most  beautiful 
creature  he  had  ever  gazed  upon. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Haverley  ?  "  said  Dora,  advanc- 
ing and  extending  her  hand ;  "  I  know  you  are  not  will- 
ing to  eat  with  cooks,  but  I  do  not  believe  you  will 
object  to  shaking  hands  with  one,  now  and  then." 

Ralph  arose,  and  took  her  hand,  but  she  gave  him  no 
opportunity  to  say  anything. 


126  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

"  Your  sister  and  I  got  up  this  little  bit  of  deception 
for  you,  Mr.  Haverley,"  she  continued,  "  and  we  intended 
to  carry  it  on  a  good  deal  further,  but  that  gentleman 
has  spoiled  it  all,  and  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  stopped 
here  to  see  your  sister,  and  finding  she  had  not  a  soul  to 
help  her,  I  would  not  leave  her  in  such  a  plight,  and  we 
had  a  royal  good  time,  getting  the  supper,  and  were 
going  to  do  ever  so  many  more  things  —  I  should  like  to 
know,  doctor,  how  you  knew  me.  I  am  sure  I  did  not 
look  a  bit  like  myself." 

"  You  did  not  look  like  yourself,  but  you  walked  like 
yourself,"  replied  Dr.  Tolbridge.  "  I  watched  you  when 
you  first  tried  to  toddle  alone,  and  I  have  seen  you  nearly 
every  day  since,  and  I  know  your  way  of  stepping  about 
as  well  as  I  know  anything.  But  I  must  really  apologize 
for  having  spoiled  the  fun.  I  discovered  you,  Dora, 
before  we  had  half  finished  supper,  but  I  thought  the 
trick  was  being  played  on  me  alone.  I  had  no  idea  that 
Mr.  Haverley  thought  you  were  the  new  cook." 

"  I  certainly  did  think  so,"  cried  Ralph,  "  and  what  is 
more,  I  intended  to  discharge  you  to-morrow  morning." 

There  was  a  lively  time  for  a  few  minutes,  after  which 
Dora  explained  what  had  been  said  about  her  mind  and 
a  kitten. 

"He  was  just  twitting  me  with  having  once  changed 
my  mind  —  every  one  does  that,"  she  said ;  "  and  then  I 
gave  him  a  kitten.  That  is  all.  And  now,  before  I 
change  my  dress,  I  will  go  and  get  some  wood  for  the 
kitchen  fire.  I  think  you  said,  Mr.  Haverley,  that  the 
woodhouse  was  not  far  away." 


doea's  new  mind  127 

"  Wood  ! "  cried  Ealph ;  "  don't  you  think  of  it ! " 

Miriam  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"  Oh,  you  ought  to  have  heard  the  lord  of  the  manor 
declare  that  he  would  not  carry  fuel  for  the  cook,"  she 
cried. 

Ralph  joined  in  the  laugh  that  rose  against  him,  but 
insisted  that  Dora  should  not  change  her  dress. 

"You  could  not  wear  anything  more  becoming,"  he 
said,  "  and  you  do  not  know  how  much  I  want  to  treat 
the  new  cook  as  one  of  the  family." 

"  I  will  wear  whatever  the  lord  of  the  manor  chooses," 
said  Dora,  demurely,  and  was  about  to  make  reference  to 
his  concluding  remark,  but  checked  herself. 

When  the  two  girls  joined  the  gentlemen  on  the  porch, 
which  they  did  with  much  promptness,  having  delegated 
the  greater  part  of  their  household  duties  to  Mike,  who 
could  take  a  hand  at  almost  any  kind  of  work.  Dr.  Tol- 
bridge  announced  that  he  must  proceed  to  visit  his 
patient. 

"  Are  you  coming  back  this  way,  doctor  ?  "  asked  Dora. 
"  Because  if  you  are,  would  it  be  too  much  trouble  for  you 
to  look  for  our  buggy  on  the  side  of  the  road,  and  to  bring 
back  the  cushions  and  the  whip  with  you  ?  Herbert  may 
think  that  in  this  part  of  the  country  the  people  are  so 
honest  that  they  would  not  steal  anything  out  of  a 
deserted  buggy,  but  I  do  not  believe  it  is  safe  to  put  too 
much  trust  in  people." 

"A  fine,  practicable  mind,"  said  the  doctor;  "cuts  clean 
and  sharp.  I  will  bring  the  cushions  and  the  whip,  if 
they  have  not  been  stolen  before   I  reach  them.     And 


128  THE  GIEL  AT  COBHURST 

now  I  will  go  to  the  barn  and  get  my  horse.  We  need 
not  disturb  the  industrious  Mike." 

"  If  you  are  going  to  the  barn,  doctor,"  cried  Miriam, 
seizing  her  hat,  "  I  will  go  with  you  and  put  the  mosquito 
net  over  my  calf,  which  I  entirely  forgot  to  do.  Per- 
haps, if  it  is  light  enough,  you  will  look  at  its  eye." 

The  doctor  laughed,  and  the  two  went  off  together, 
leaving  Dora  and  Kalph  on  the  piazza. 

Dora  could  not  help  thinking  of  herself  as  a  very  lucky 
girl.  When  she  had  started  that  afternoon  to  make  a 
little  visit  at  Cobhurst,  she  had  had  no  imaginable  reason 
to  suppose  that  in  the  course  of  a  very  few  hours  she 
would  be  sitting  alone  with  Mr.  Haverley  in  the  early 
moonlight,  without  even  his  sister  with  them.  She  had 
expected  to  see  Ralph  and  to  have  a  chat  with  him,  but 
she  had  counted  on  Miriam's  presence  as  a  matter  of 
course ;  so  this  t§te-a-tgte  in  the  quiet  beauty  of  the  night 
was  as  delightful  as  it  was  unanticipated.  More  than 
that,  it  was  an  opportunity  that  ought  not  to  be  disre- 
garded. 

The  new  mind  of  Miss  Dora  Bannister  was  clear  and 
quick  in  its  perceptions,  and  prompt  and  independent  in 
action.  It  not  only  showed  what  she  wanted,  but  indi- 
cated pretty  clearly  how  she  might  get  it.  Since  she  had 
been  making  use  of  this  fresh  intellect,  she  had  been 
impressed  very  strongly  by  the  belief  that  in  the  matter 
of  matrimonial  alliance,  a  girl  should  not  neglect  her 
interest  by  depending  too  much  upon  the  option  of  other 
people.  Her  own  right  of  option  she  looked  upon  as  a 
sacred  right,  and  one  that  it  was  her  duty  to  herself  to 


DORA*S  NEW  MIND  129 

exercise,  and  that  promptly.  She  had  just  come  from 
the  seaside,  where  she  had  met  some  earnest  young  men, 
one  or  two  of  whom  she  expected  to  see  shortly  at  Thor- 
bury.  Also  Mr.  Ames,  their  young  rector,  was  a  very 
persevering  person,  and  a  great  friend  of  her  brother. 

Of  course  it  behooved  her  to  act  with  tact,  but  for  all 
that  she  must  be  prompt.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  Ealph 
Haverley  could  not  be  expected  to  go  very  soon  into  the 
society  of  Thorbury,  to  visit  ladies  there,  and  as  she 
wanted  him  to  learn  to  know  her  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
she  resolved  to  give  him  every  opportunity. 

Miriam  was  gone  a  long  time,  because  when  she  reached 
the  barn,  the  calf  was  not  to  be  found  where  she  had  left 
it,  and  she  had  been  obliged  to  go  for  Mike  and  a  lantern. 
After  anxious  search  the  little  fellow  had  been  found 
reclining  under  an  apple  tree,  having  gained  sufficient 
strength  from  the  ministrations  of  its  fair  attendants  to 
go  through  the  open  stable  door  and  to  find  out  what 
sort  of  a  world  it  had  been  born  into.  It  required  time 
to  get  the  truant  back,  secure  it  in  its  stall,  and  make  all 
the  arrangements  for  its  comfort  which  Miriam  thought 
necessary.  Therefore,  before  she  returned  to  the  piazza. 
Miss  Bannister  and  Ralph  had  had  a  long  conversation, 
in  which  the  latter  had  learned  a  great  deal  about  the 
disposition  and  tastes  of  his  fair  companion,  and  had 
been  much  interested  in  what  he  learned. 


180  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHITRST 

CHAPTER  XIV 

GOOD-NIGHT 

When  the  three  young  people  had  been  sitting  for 
half  an  hour  on  the  wide  piazza  of  Cobhurst,  enjoying 
the  moonlight  effects  and  waiting  for  the  return  of  Dr. 
Tolbridge,  Miriam,  who  was  reclining  in  a  steamer  chair, 
ceased  making  remarks,  but  very  soon  after  she  became 
silent  she  was  heard  again,  not  speaking,  however,  but 
breathing  audibly  and  with  great  regularity.  Ealph  and 
i)ora  turned  toward  her  and  smiled. 

"Poor  little  thing,"  said  the  latter  in  a  low  voice; 
"  she  must  be  tired  out." 

"Yes,"  said  Ealph,  also  speaking  in  an  undertone, 
"  she  was  up  very  early  this  morning,  and  has  been  at 
some  sort  of  work  ever  since.  I  do  not  intend  that  this 
shall  happen  again.  You  must  excuse  her,  Miss  Bannis- 
ter, —  she  is  a  girl  yet,  you  know." 

"And  a  sweet  one,  too,"  said  Dora,  "with  a  perfect 
right  to  go  to  sleep  if  she  chooses.  I  should  be  ashamed 
of  myself  if  I  felt  in  the  least  degree  offended.  Do  not 
let  us  disturb  her  until  the  doctor  comes ;  the  nap  will 
do  her  good." 

"  Suppose,  then,"  said  Ealph,  "  that  we  take  a  little 
turn  in  the  moonlight.  Then  we  need  not  trouble  our- 
selves to  lower  our  voices." 

"  That  will  be  very  well,"  said  Dora,  "  but  I  am  afraid 
she  may  take  cold,  although  the  night  air  is  so  soft.     I 


GOOD-NIGHT  181 

think  I  saw  a  lap  robe  on  a  table  in  the  hall;  I  will 
spread  that  over  her." 

Ealph  whispered  that  he  would  get  the  robe,  but 
motioning  him  back,  and  having  tiptoed  into  the  hall 
and  back  again,  Dora  laid  the  light  covering  over  the 
sleeping  girl  so  gently  that  the  regular  breathing  was  not 
in  the  least  interrupted.  Then  they  both  went  quietly 
down  the  steps,  and  out  upon  the  lawn. 

"  She  is  such  a  dear  girl,"  said  Dora,  as  they  slowly 
moved  away,  "  and  although  we  only  met  to-day,  I  am 
really  growing  very  fond  of  her,  and  I  like  her  the  bet- 
ter because  there  is  still  so  much  of  the  child  left  in  her. 
Do  not  you  like  her  the  better  for  that,  Mr.  Haverley  ?  " 

Ealph  did  agree  most  heartily,  and  it  made  him  happy 
to  agree  on  any  subject  with  a  girl  who  was  even  more 
beautiful  by  moonlight  than  by  day ;  who  was  so  kind, 
and  tended  to  his  sister,  and  whose  generous  disposition 
could  overlook  little  breaches  of  etiquette  when  there 
was  reason  to  do  so. 

As  they  walked  backward  and  forward,  not  very  far 
away  from  the  piazza,  and  sometimes  stopping  to  admire 
bits  of  the  silver-tinted  landscape,  Dora,  with  most  inter- 
esting deftness,  gave  Ealph  further  opportunity  of  know- 
ing her.  With  his  sister  as  a  suggesting  subject,  she 
talked  about  herself ;  she  told  him  how  she,  too,  had  lost 
her  parents  early  in  life,  and  had  been  obliged  to  be  a 
very  independent  girl,  for  her  stepmother,  although  just 
as  good  as  she  could  be,  was  not  a  person  on  whom  she 
could  rely  very  much.  As  for  her  brother,  the  dearest 
man  on  earth,  she  had  always  felt  that  she  was  more 


13^  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

capable  of  taking  care  of  him,  at  least  in  all  matters  in 
home  life,  than  he  of  her. 

"  But  I  have  been  very  happy,"  she  went  on  to  say, 
"for  I  am  so -fond  of  country  life,  and  everything  that 
belongs  to  it,  that  the  more  I  have  to  do  with  it,  the  bet- 
ter I  like  it,  and  I  really  begrudge  the  time  that  I  spend 
in  the  city.  You  do  not  know  with  what  pleasure  I  look 
forward  to  helping  Miriam  get  breakfast  to-morrow 
morning.  I  consider  it  a  positive  lark.  By  the  way, 
Mr.  Haverley,  do  you  like  rolled  omelets  ?  " 

Ralph  declared  that  he  liked  everything  that  was 
good,  and  had  no  doubt  that  rolled  omelets  were 
delicious. 

"Then  I  shall  make  some,"  said  Dora,  "for  I  know 
how  to  do  it.  And  I  think  you  said,  Mr.  Haverley,  that 
the  coffee  to-night  was  too  strong." 

"  A  little  so,  perhaps,"  said  Ralph,  "  but  it  was  excel- 
lent." 

"  Oh,  it  shall  be  better  in  the  morning.  I  am  sure  it 
will  be  well  for  one  of  us  to  do  one  thing,  and  the  other 
another.     I  will  make  the  coffee." 

"You  are  wonderfully  kind  to  do  anything  at  all," 
said  Ralph,  and  as  he  spoke  he  heard  the  clock  in  the 
house  strike  ten.  It  was  agreeable  in  the  highest  de- 
gree to  walk  in  the  moonlight  with  this  charming  girl, 
but  he  felt  that  it  was  getting  late;  it  was  long  past 
Miriam's  bedtime,  and  he  wondered  why  the  doctor  did 
not  come. 

Dora  perceived  the  perturbations  of  his  mind;  she 
knew  that  he  thought  it  was  time  for  the  little  party 


GOOD-NIGHT  133 

to  break  up,  but  did  not  like  to  suggest  it.  She  knew 
that  the  natural  and  proper  thing  for  her  to  do  was  to 
wake  up  Miriam,  and  that  the  two  should  bid  Ralph 
good-night,  and  leave  him  to  sit  up  and  wait  for  the 
doctor  as  long  as  he  felt  himself  called  upon  to  do  so, 
but  she  was  perfectly  contented  with  the  present  circum- 
stances, and  did  not  wish  to  change  them  just  yet.  It 
was  a  pleasure  to  her  to  walk  by  this  tall,  broad-shoul- 
dered young  fellow,  who  was  so  handsome  and  so  strong, 
and  in  so  many  ways  the  sort  of  man  she  liked,  and  to 
let  him  know,  not  so  much  by  her  words,  as  by  the  in- 
cited action  of  his  own  intelligence,  that  she  was  fond  of 
the  things  he  was  fond  of,  and  that  she  loved  the  life  he 
led. 

As  they  still  walked  and  talked,  the  thought  came  to 
Dora,  and  it  was  a  very  pleasing  one,  that  she  might  act 
another  part  with  this  young  gentleman ;  she  had  played 
the  cook,  now  for  a  while  she  could  play  the  mistress, 
and  she  knew  she  could  do  it  so  gently  and  so  wisely 
that  he-  would  like  it  without  perceiving  it.  She  turned 
away  her  face  for  a  moment ;  she  felt  that  her  pleasure 
in  acting  the  part  of  mistress  of  Cobhurst,  even  for  a 
little  time,  was  flushing  it. 

"  Suppose,"  she  said,  "  we  walk  down  to  the  road,  and 
if  we  see  or  hear  the  doctor  coming,  we  can  wait  there 
and  save  him  the  trouble  of  driving  in." 

They  went  out  of  the  Cobhurst  gateway,  but  along  the 
moonlighted  highway  they  saw  no  approaching  spot,  nor 
could  they  hear  the  sounds  of  wheels. 

^'I  really  tljink,  Mr.  H[averlQy,"  gjaid  Dora,  tuj^ning 


134  THE   GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

toward  the  house,  "  that  I  ought  to  go  and  arouse 
Miriam,  and  then  we  will  retire.  It  is  a  positive 
shame  to  keep  her  out  of  her  bed  any  longer." 

This  suggestion  much  relieved  Ralph,  and  they  walked 
rapidly  to  the  porch,  but  when  they  reached  it  they  found 
an  empty  steamer  chair  and  no  Miriam  anywhere.  They 
looked  at  each  other  in  much  surprise,  and  entering  the 
house  they  looked  in  several  of  the  rooms  on  the  lower 
floor.  Ralph  was  about  to  call  out  for  his  sister,  but 
Dora  quickly  touched  him  on  the  arm. 

"  Hush,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  do  not  call  her.  Do  you 
see  that  lap  robe  on  the  table  ?  I  will  tell  you  exactly 
what  has  happened;  while  we  were  down  at  the  road 
she  awoke,  at  least  enough  to  know  that  she  ought  to 
go  to  bed,  and  I  really  believe  that  she  was  not  suffi- 
ciently awake  to  remember  that  I  am  here,  and  that 
she  simply  got  up,  brought  the  robe  in  with  her,  and 
went  to  her  room.     Isn't  it  funny?" 

Ralph  was  quite  sure  that  Dora's  deductions  were 
correct,  for  when  Miriam  happened  to  drop  asleep  in 
a  chair  in  the  evening,  it  was  her  habit,  when  aroused, 
to  get  up  and  go  to  bed,  too  sleepy  to  think  about  any- 
thing else ;  but  he  did  not  think  it  was  funny  now.  He 
was  mortified  that  Miss  Bannister  should  have  been 
treated  with  such  apparent  disrespect,  and  he  began 
to  apologize  for  his  sister. 

"Now,  please  stop,  Mr.  Haverley,"  interrupted  Dora. 
"  I  am  so  glad  to  have  her  act  so  freely  and  unconven- 
tionally with  me,  as  if  we  had  always  been  friends.  It 
makes  me  feel  almost  as  if  we  had  known  each  other 


GOOD-NIGHT  135 

always,  and  it  does  not  make  the  slightest  difference 
to  me.  Miriam  wanted  to  give  me  another  room,  but 
I  implored  her  to  let  me  sleep  with  her  in  that  splendid 
high-posted  bedstead,  and  so  all  that  I  have  to  do  is  to 
slip  up  to  her  room,  and,  if  I  can  possibly  help  it,  I  shall 
not  waken  her.  In  the  morning  I  do  not  believe  she 
will  remember  a  thing  about  having  gone  to  bed  with- 
out me.  So  good-night,  Mr.  Haverley.  I  am  going  to 
be  up  very  early,  and  you  shall  see  what  a  breakfast 
the  new  cook  will  give  you.  I  will  light  this  candle, 
for  no  doubt  poor  Miriam  has  put  out  her  lamp,  if  she 
did  not  depend  entirely  on  the  moonlight.  By  the  way, 
Mr.  Haverley,"  she  said,  turning  toward  him,  "is  there 
anything  I  can  do  to  help  you  in  shutting  up  the  house  ? 
You  know  I  am  maid  of  all  work  as  well  as  cook.  Perhaps 
I  should  go  down  and  see  if  the  kitchen  fire  is  safe." 

"  Oh,  no,  no ! "  exclaimed  Ralph ;  "  I  attend  to  all 
those  things,  —  at  least,  when  we  have  no  servant." 

"  But  doesn't  Miriam  help  you  ?  "  asked  Dora,  taking 
up  the  candle  which  she  had  lighted. 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  Miriam  generally  bids  me  good-night 
and  goes  upstairs  an  hour  before  I  do." 

"Very  well,"  said  Dora;  "I  will  say  only  one  more 
thing,  and  that  is  that  if  I  were  the  lord  of  the  manor, 
who  had  been  working  in  the  hay-field  all  day,  I  would 
not  sit  up  very  long,  waiting  for  a  wandering  doctor." 

Ealph  laughed,  and  as  she  approached  the  door  of  the 
stairway,  he  opened  it  for  her. 

"Suppose,"  she  said,  stopping  for  a  moment  in  the 
doorway,  and  shielding  the  flame  of  the  candle  from 


186  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUBST 

a  current  of  air  with  a  little  hand  that  was  so  beauti- 
fully  lighted  that  for  a  moment  it  attracted  Ralph^s 
eyes  from  its  owner's  face,  "you  wait  here  for  a  min- 
ute, and  I  will  go  up  and  see  if  she  is  really  safe  in 
her  own  room.  I  am  sure  you  will  be  better  satisfied 
if  you  know  that." 

Ralph  looked  his  thanks,  and  softly,  but  quickly,  she 
went  up  the  stairs.     At  a  little  landing  she  stopped. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  whispered,  looking  back,  with 
the  candle  throwing  her  head  and  hair  into  the  prettiest 
lights  and  shadows,  "  I  think  this  stairway  is  lovely ; " 
and  then  she  went  on  and  disappeared. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  leaned  over  the  upper  part  of 
the  banisters  and  softly  spoke  to  him. 

"She  is  sleeping  as  sweetly  and  as  quietly  as  the 
dearest  of  angels.  I  do  not  believe  I  shall  disturb  her 
in  the  least.  Good-night,  Mr.  Haverley."  And  with 
her  face  thrown  into  a  new  light,  —  this  time  by  the 
hall  lamp  below,  —  she  smiled  ever  so  sweetly,  and  then 
drew  back  her  head.  In  half  a  minute  it  reappeared. 
She  was  right;  he  was  still  looking  up. 

"I  forgot  to  say,"  she  whispered,  "that  all  the  win- 
dows in  Miriam's  room  are  open.  Do  you  think  she 
was  too  sleepy  to  notice  that,  or  is  she  accustomed  to 
so  much  night  air?" 

"  I  really  do  not  know,"  said  Ralph,  in  reply. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Dora;  "I  will  attend  to  all 
that  in  my  own  way.  Good-night  again,  Mr.  Haverley ; " 
and  with  a  little  nod  and  a,  smile,  she  witihdrew  her  f ac^ 
from  his  view... 


MISS  PANNEY  HELPS   AND   HINDERS  137 

If  she  had  come  back  within  the  next  minute,  she 
would  have  found  him  still  looking  up.  She  felt  quite 
sure  of  this,  but  she  could  think  of  no  good  reason  for 
another  reappearance. 

Ralph  lighted  a  pipe  and  sat  down  on  the  piazza.  He 
looked  steadily  in  front  of  him,  but  he  saw  no  grass, 
no  trees,  no  moonlighted  landscape,  no  sky  of  summer 
night.  He  saw  only  the  face  of  a  young  girl,  leaning 
over  and  looking  down  at  him  from  the  top  of  a  stair- 
way. It  was  the  face  of  a  girl  who  was  so  gentle,  so 
thoughtful  for  others,  so  quick  to  perceive,  so  quick  to 
do;  who  was  so  fond  of  his  sister,  and  so  beautiful. 
He  sat  and  thought  of  the  wondrous  good  fortune  that 
had  brought  this  girl  beneath  his  roof,  and  had  given 
him  these  charming  hours  with  her. 

And  when  his  pipe  was  out,  he  arose,  declared  to  him- 
self that,  no  matter  what  the  doctor  might  think  of  it, 
he  would  not  wait  another  minute  for  him,  and  went  to 
bed,  —  his  mind  very  busy  with  the  anticipation  of  the 
charming  hours  which  were  to  come  on  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MISS    PANNEY    IS    AROUSED    TO    HELP    AND    HINDER 

When  Dr.  Tolbridge  returned  from  the  visit  to  the 
patient  who  lived  beyond  Cobhurst,  he  did  not  drive  into 
the  latter  place,  for  seeing  Mike  by  the  gate  near  the 
barn,  he  gave  the  cushions  and  whip  to  him  and  went  on, 


138  THE  GIRL   AT   COBHURST 

As  it  was  yet  early  in  the  evening,  and  bright  moon- 
light, he  concluded  to  go  around  by  the  Wittons'.  It 
was  not  far  out  of  his  way,  and  he  wanted  to  see  Miss 
Panney.  What  he  wanted  to  say  to  the  old  lady  was 
not  exactly  evident  to  his  own  mind,  but  in  a  general 
way  he  wished  her  to  know  that  Dora  was  at  Cobhurst. 

Dora  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  doctor.  He  had 
known  her  all  her  life,  and  considered  that  he  knew,  not 
only  her  good  points,  of  which  there  were  many,  but  also 
those  that  were  not  altogether  desirable,  and,  of  which, 
he  believed,  there  were  few.  One  of  the  latter  was  her 
disposition  to  sometimes  do  as  she  pleased,  without  refer- 
ence to  tradition  or  ordinary  custom.  He  had  seen  her 
acting  the  part  of  cook,  disguised  by  a  pink  sunbonnet 
and  an  old-fashioned  calico  gown.  And  what  pranks  she 
and  the  Haverleys  —  two  estimable  young  people,  but 
also  lively  and  independent  —  might  play,  no  one  could 
tell.  The  duration  of  Dora's  visit  would  depend  on  her 
brother  Herbert,  and  he  was  a  man  of  business,  whose 
time  was  not  at  all  at  his  own  disposal,  and  so,  the 
doctor  thought,  it  would  not  be  a  bad  thing  if  Miss 
Panney  would  call  at  Cobhurst  the  next  day,  and  see 
what  those  three  youngsters  were  about. 

The  Wittons  had  gone  to  bed,  but  Miss  Panney  was  in 
the  parlor,  reading.  "  Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise," 
was  not  one  of  her  rules. 

"  Well,  really ! "  she  exclaimed,  as  she  rose  to  greet 
her  visitor,  "  this  is  amazing.  How  many  years  has  it 
been  since  you  came  to  see  me  without  being  sent  for  ?  " 

"I  do  not  keep  account  of  years,"  said  the  doctor. 


MISS   PANNEY   HELPS   AND  HINDERS  139 

^'  and  if  I  choose  to  stop  in  and  have  a  chat  with  you,  I 
shall  do  it  without  reference  to  precedent.  This  is  a 
purely  social  call,  and  I  shall  not  even  ask  you  how  you 
are.'' 

"  I  beg  you  will  not,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  and  that  will 
give  me  a  good  reason  for  sending  for  you  when  you 
ought  to  be  informed  on  that  point." 

"This  is  not  my  first  social  call  this  evening,"  said  he. 
"I  took  supper  at  Cobhurst,  where  Dora  Bannister 
waited  on  the  table." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  exclaimed  Miss  Panney,  and 
then  the  doctor  told  his  tale.  As  the  old  lady  listened, 
her  spirits  rose  higher  and  higher.  What  extraordinary 
good  luck !  She  had  never  planned  a  match  that  moved 
with  such  smoothness,  such  celerity,  such  astonishing 
directness  as  this.  She  did  not  look  upon  Dora's  disre- 
gard of  tradition  and  ordinary  custom  as  an  undesirable 
point  in  her  character.  She  liked  that  sort  of  thing.  It 
was  one  of  the  points  in  her  own  character. 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  her !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  She 
must  have  been  charming." 

"  Don't  you  think  there  is  danger  that  she  may  be  too 
charming  ?  "  the  doctor  asked. 

"No,  I  don't,"  promptly  answered  Miss  Panney. 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise. 

"  We  should  remember,"  said  he,  "  that  Dora  is  a  girl 
of  wealth ;  that  one-third  of  the  Bannister  estate  belongs 
to  her,  besides  the  sixty  thousand  dollars  that  came  to 
her  from  her  mother." 

•*  That  does  not  hurt  her,"  said  Miss  Panney. 


140  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  And  Ralph  Haverley  was  a  poor  young  man  when  he 
came  here,  and  Cobhurst  will  probably  make  him  a  good 
deal  poorer." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,"  said  Miss  Panney. 

"  Do  you  believe,"  said  the  doctor,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "  that  it  is  wise  or  right  in  a  girl  like  Dora  Ban- 
nister, accustomed  to  fine  living,  good  society,  and  an 
atmosphere  of  opulence,  to  allow  a  poor  man  like  Ralph 
Haverley  to  fall  in  love  with  her  ?  And  he  will  do  it, 
just  as  sure  as  the  world  turns  round." 

"Well,  let  him  do  it,"  replied  the  old  lady.  "I  did 
not  intend  to  give  my  opinion  on  this  subject,  because,  as 
you  know,  I  am  not  fond  of  obtruding  my  ideas  into 
other  people's  affairs,  but  I  will  say,  now,  that  Dora 
Bannister  will  have  to  travel  a  long  distance  before  she 
finds  a  better  man  for  a  husband  than  Ralph  Haverley, 
or  a  better  estate  on  which  to  spend  her  money  than 
Cobhurst.  I  believe  that  money  that  is  made  in  a  neigh- 
borhood like  this  ought  to  be  spent  here,  and  Thomas 
Bannister's  money  could  not  be  better  spent  than  in 
making  Cobhurst  the  fine  estate  it  used  to  be.  I  do  not 
believe  in  a  girl  like  Dora  going  off  and  marrying  some 
city  fellow,  and  perhaps  spending  the  rest  of  her  life  at 
the  watering-places  and  Paris.  I  want  her  here ;  don't 
you?" 

"  I  certainly  do,  but  you  forget  Mr.  Ames." 

"  I  do,  and  I  intend  to  forget  him,"  she  replied,  "  and 
so  does  Dora." 

The  doctor  shook  his  head.  "  I  do  not  like  it,"  he  said ; 
"young  Haverley  may  be  all  very  well,  —  I  have  a  high 


MISS  PANNEY  HELPS  AND  HINDERS  141 

opinion  of  him,  already,  but  he  is  not  the  man  for  Dora. 
If.  he  had  any  money  at  all,  it  would  be  different,  but  he 
has  not.  Now  she  would  not  be  content  to  live  at  Cob- 
hurst  as  it  is,  and  he  ought  not  to  be  content  to  have  her 
do  everything  to  make  it  what  she  would  have  it.'' 

"Doctor,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "if  there  is  anything 
about  all  this  in  your  medicine  books,  perhaps  you  know 
more  than  I  do,  and  you  can  go  on  and  talk ;  but  you 
know  there  is  not,  and  you  know,  too,  that  I  was  a  very 
sensible  middle-aged  woman  when  you  were  toddling 
around  in  frocks  and  running  against  people.  I  believe 
you  are  trying  to  run  against  somebody  now.    Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "  if  it  is  anybody,  it  is  young 
Haverley." 

Miss  Panney  smiled.  "  You  may  think  so,"  she  said, 
"but  I  want  you  to  know  that  you  are  also  running 
against  me,  and  I  say  to  you,  confidentially,  and  with  as 
much  trust  in  you  as  I  used  to  have  that  you  would  not 
tell  who  it  was  who  spread  your  bread  with  forbidden 
jam,  that  I  have  planned  a  match  between  these  two; 
and  if  they  marry,  I  intend  to  make  pecuniary  matters 
more  nearly  even  between  them,  than  they  are  now." 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  earnestly. 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  said  he,  "  that  he  would  take  money 
from  you  ?  " 

"What  I  should  do  for  him,"  she  answered,  "could 
not  be  prevented  by  him  or  any  one  else." 

"  But  there  is  no  reason,"  urged  the  other. 

The  old  lady  smiled,  took  off  her  glasses,  wiped  them 
with  her  handkerchief,  and  put  them  on  again. 


142  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUEST 

"There  is  so  little  in  medicine  books,"  she  said.  "His 
grandfather  was  my  cousin." 

"  The  one  —  ?  "  asked  the  startled  doctor. 

"  Yes,  that  very  one,"  she  answered  quickly ;  "  but  he 
does  not  know  it,  and  now  we  will  drop  the  subject.  I 
will  try  to  get  to  Cobhurst  to-morrow  before  Dora  leaves, 
and  I  will  see  if  I  cannot  help  matters  along  a  little." 

The  doctor  laughed.  "  I  was  going  to  ask  you  to  inter- 
fere with  matters." 

"  Well,  don't,"  she  said.  "And  now  tell  me  about  your 
cook.     Is  she  as  good  as  ever  ?  " 

"  As  good  ?  "  said  the  doctor.  "  She  is  better.  The 
more  she  learns  about  our  tastes,  the  more  perfectly  she 
gratifies  them.  Mrs.  Tolbridge  and  I  look  upon  her  as  a 
household  blessing,  for  she  gives  us  three  perfect  meals 
a  day,  and  would  give  us  more  if  we  wanted  them ;  the 
butcher  reverences  her,  for  she  knows  more  about  meat 
and  how  to  cut  it  than  he  does.  Our  man  and  our  maid 
either  tremble  at  her  nod  or  regard  her  with  the  deepest 
affection,  for  I  am  told  that  they  spend  a  great  deal  of 
their  time  helping  her,  when  they  should  be  attending 
to  their  own  duties.  She  has,  in  fact,  become  so  neces- 
sary to  our  domestic  felicity,  and  I  may  say,  to  our 
health,  that  I  do  not  know  what  will  become  of  us  if  we 
lose  her." 

"  Is  there  any  chance  of  that  ?  "  eagerly  asked  the  old 
lady. 

"  I  fear  there  is,"  was  the  answer. 

Miss  Panney  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  eyes  flashing. 

"  Now  look  here,  Dr.  Tolbridge,"  she  said,  "  don't  tell 


MISS   PANNEY  HELPS   AND  HINDERS  143 

me  that  that  woman  is  going  to  leave  you  because  she 
wants  higher  wages  and  you  will  not  pay  them.  I  beg 
you  to  remember  that  I  got  you  that  woman.  I  saw  she 
was  what  you  needed,  and  I  worked  matters  so  that  she 
came  to  you.  She  has  proved  to  be  everything  that  I 
expected.  You  are  looking  better  now  than  I  have  seen 
you  look  for  five  years.  You  have  been  eating  food  that 
you  like,  and  food  that  agrees  with  you,  and  a  chance  to 
do  that  comes  to  very  few  people  in  your  circumstances. 
There  is  no  way  in  which  you  could  spend  your  money 
better  than  — '' 

The  doctor  raised  his  hand  deprecatingly. 

"  There  is  no  question  of  money,"  he  said.  She  has 
not  asked  for  higher  wages,  and  if  she  had,  I  should  pay 
anything  in  reason.  The  trouble  is  more  serious.  You 
may  remember  that  when  she  first  came  to  this  country, 
she  lived  with  the  Dranes,  and  she  left  them  because 
they  could  no  longer  afford  to  employ  her.  She  has  the 
greatest  regard  for  that  family,  and  has  lately  heard 
that  they  are  becoming  poorer  and  poorer.  There  are 
only  two  of  them,  —  mother  and  daughter,  —  and  on 
account  of  some  sort  of  unwise  investment  they  are 
getting  into  a  pretty  bad  way.  I  used  to  know  Captain 
Drane,  and  was  slightly  acquainted  with  his  family.  I 
heard  of  their  misfortune  through  a  friend  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, and  as  I  knew  that  La  Eleur  took  such  an  interest 
in  the  family,  I  mentioned  it  to  her.  The  result  was 
disastrous ;  she  has  been  in  a  doleful  mood  ever  since, 
and  yesterday  assured  Mrs.  Tolbridge  that  if  it  should 
prove  that  Mrs.  Drane  and  her  daughter,  who  had  been 


144  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

SO  good  to  her,  had  become  so  poor  that  they  could  not 
afford  to  employ  a  servant,  she  must  leave  us  and  go  to 
them.  She  would  ask  no  wages  and  would  take  no 
denial.  She  would  stay  with  them  and  serve  them  for 
the  love  she  bore  them,  as  long  as  they  needed  her.  I 
know  she  is  in  earnest,  for  she  immediately  wrote  to 
Mrs.  Drane,  and  asked  me  to  put  the  letter  in  the  post- 
office;  and,  by  the  way,  she  writes  a  great  deal  better 
hand  than  I  do." 

Miss  Panney,  who  had  reseated  herself,  gazed  earnestly 
at  the  floor. 

"  Doctor,''  she  said,  "  this  is  very  serious.  I  have  not 
yet  met  La  Fleur,  but  I  very  much  want  to.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  she  is  a  woman  of  character,  and  when  she 
«ays  she  intends  to  do  a  thing,  she  will  do  it.  That  is, 
unless  somebody  else  of  character,  and  of  pretty  strong 
character  too,  gets  in  her  way.  I  do  not  know  what 
advice  to  give  you  just  now,  but  she  must  not  leave  you. 
That  must  be  considered  as  settled.  I  am  coming  to 
your  house  to-morrow  afternoon,  and  please  ask  Mrs. 
Tolbridge  to  be  at  home.  We  shall  then  see  what  is 
to  be  done." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  done,"  said  the  doctor,  rising. 
"We  cannot  improve  the  circumstances  of  the  Dranes, 
and  we  cannot  prevent  La  Fleur  from  going  to  them  if 
her  feelings  prompt  her  to  do  it." 

"  Stuff ! "  said  the  old  lady.  "  There  is  always  some- 
thing to  be  done.  The  trouble  is,  there  is  not  always 
some  one  to  do  it;  but,  fortunately  for  some  of  my 
friends,  I  am  alive  yet." 


"KEEP  HER  TO  HELP  YOU**  145 

CHAPTER  XVI 
"keep  her  to  help  tou" 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning  when  Miss 
Panney  drove  over  to  Cobhurst  in  her  phaeton.  She  did 
not  go  up  to  the  house,  but  tied  her  roan  mare  behind 
a  clump  of  locust  trees  and  bushes,  where  the  animal 
might  stand  in  peace  and  shade.  Then  she  walked 
around  the  house,  and  hearing  the  clatter  of  crockery  in 
the  basement,  she  looked  down  through  a  kitchen  win- 
dow, and  saw  Mike  washing  the  breakfast  dishes. 

Going  on  toward  the  back  of  the  house,  she  heard 
voices  and  laughter  over  in  the  garden.  Behind  a  tan- 
gled mass  of  raspberries,  she  saw  a  pink  sunbonnet  and 
a  straw  hat  with  daisies  in  it.  She  knew,  then,  that 
Dora  and  Miriam  were  picking  berries,  and  then  her 
eyes  and  ears  began  to  search  for  Ralph. 

She  went  up  on  the  back  piazza  and  looked  over  toward 
the  barn,  which  appeared  to  be  closed,  and  around  and 
about  the  house,  but  saw  nothing  of  the  young  man. 
But  she  would  wait ;  it  was  scarcely  likely  that  he  was 
at  work  in  the  fields  by  himself.  He  would  probably 
appear  soon,  and,  if  possible,  she  wanted  to  speak  to  him 
before  she  saw  any  one  else.  She  went  into  the  house, 
and  took  a  seat  in  the  hall,  where,  through  a  narrow 
window  by  the  side  of  the  door,  she  had  a  good  view  of 
the  garden  and  the  grounds  at  the  back,  and  could  also 
command  the  front  entrance  of  the  house. 


146  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

Miss  Panney  had  been  seated  but  a  very  few  minutes 
when  the  two  girls  emerged  from  the  bosky  intricacies  of 
the  garden. 

"  Upon  my  word ! "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  "  she  has 
got  on  Judith  Pacewalk's  teaberry  gown.  I  could  never 
forget  that ! '' 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  clatter  of  hoofs  and  a 
rattle  of  wheels,  and  a  brown  horse,  drawing  a  very  loose- 
jointed  wagon,  with  Ealph  Haverley,  in  a  broad  hat  and 
light  tennis  jacket,  driving,  dashed  up  to  the  back  door 
and  stopped  with  a  jerk. 

"  Back  so  soon ! "  cried  Miriam.  "  See  what  a  lot  of 
raspberries  we  have  picked.  I  will  take  them  into  the 
house,  and  then  come  out  and  get  the  things  you  have 
brought.'* 

As  Miriam  went  around  toward  the  kitchen,  Ralph 
sprang  to  the  ground,  and  Dora  approached  him.  Miss 
Panney  could  see  her  face  under  the  sunbonnet.  It  was 
suffused  with  the  light  of  a  smiling,  beaming  welcome. 

"  You  did  go  quickly,  didn't  you  ?  "  she  said.  "  You 
must  be  a  good  driver." 

"  I  didn't  want  to  lose  any  time,"  answered  Ealph, 
"and  I  made  Mrs.  Browning  step  along  lively.  As  it 
was,  I  was  afraid  that  your  brother  might  arrive  before  I 
got  back  and  that  I  might  find  you  were  gone." 

"  It  was  a  pity,"  said  Dora,  "  that  you  troubled  your- 
self to  hurry  back.  You  may  have  wanted  to  do  other 
things  in  Thorbury,  and  if  Herbert  missed  seeing  you 
to-day  he  would  have  plenty  of  other  opportunities." 

Ralph  laughed.     "  I  should  like  to  meet  your  brother," 


147 


he  said,  "but  I  am  bound  to  say  that  I  was  thinking 
more  of  the  new  cook.  I  did  not  want  her  to  leave  before 
I  got  back." 

Dora  raised  her  sunbonnet  toward  him.  Miriam^s 
steps  were  heard  approaching. 

"  You  might  have  felt  sure,"  she  said,  "  that  she  would 
not  have  gone  without  seeing  you  again.  You  have  been 
so  kind  and  good  to  her  that  she  would  not  think  of 
doing  that."  Then,  as  Miriam  was  very  near,  she  ap- 
proached the  wagon.  "  Did  you  get  the  snowflake  flour, 
as  I  told  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Yes,  I  see  you  did,  and  I 
am  glad  you  listened  to  my  advice,  and  bought  only  a 
bag  of  it,  for  you  know  you  may  not  like  it." 

"  If  it  is  the  flour  you  use,  I  know  we  shall  like  it,*' 
said  Ralph;  "but  still  I  am  bound  to  follow  your 
advice." 

"You  would  better  follow  me,  now,"  said  Miriam,  who 
had  taken  some  parcels  from  the  wagon,  "  and  bring  that 
bag  into  the  pantry.  I  do  not  like  Mike  to  come  into 
our  part  of  the  house  with  his  boots." 

Ralph  shouldered  the  bag,  and  Dora  stepped  up  to  him. 

"  I  will  stay  with  the  horse  until  you  come  out  again," 
she  said,  not  speaking  very  loudly. 

Miss  Panney,  who  had  heard  all  that  had  been  said, 
smiled,  and  her  black  eyes  twinkled.  "  Truly,"  she  said 
to  herself,  "  for  so  short  an  acquaintance,  this  is  getting 
on  wonderfully." 

Miriam,  her  arms  full  of  parcels,  and  her  mind  full 
of  household  economy,  walked  rapidly  by  Miss  Panney 
without  seeing  her  at  all,  and,  entering  the  dining-room, 


148  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

passed  through,  it  into  the  pantry.  But  when  Balph 
appeared  in  the  open  doorway,  the  old  lady  rose  and 
confronted  him,  her  finger  on  her  lip. 

"I  have  just  popped  in  to  make  a  little  call  on  your 
sister,"  she  whispered ;  "  but  I  saw  she  was  pretty  well 
loaded  as  she  passed,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  embarrass 
her  —  I  do  not  mind  embarrassing  you.  Don't  put  down 
the  bag,  I  beg.  I  shall  step  into  the  drawing-room,  and 
you  can  say  I  am  there.  By  the  way,  who  is  that  young 
woman  standing  by  the  horse  ? '' 

"  It  is  Miss  Bannister,"  answered  Ealph,  his  face  un- 
reasonably flushing  as  he  spoke.  "  She  is  visiting 
Miriam  and  helping  her." 

When  Miss  Panney  wished  to  influence  a  person  in 
favor  of  or  against  another  person,  she  was  accustomed 
to  go  about  the  business  in  a  very  circumspect  way,  and  to 
accommodate  the  matter  and  the  manner  of  her  remarks 
to  the  disposition  of  the  person  addressed,  and  to  the 
occasion.  She  wished  very  much  to  influence  Ralph  in 
favor  of  Miss  Bannister,  and  if  she  had  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  a  conversation  with  him,  she  knew  she  could 
have  done  this  in  a  very  easy  and  natural  way.  But 
there  was  no  time  for  conversation  now,  and  she  might 
not  again  have  the  chance  of  seeing  him  alone,  so  she 
adopted  a  very  different  course,  and  with  as  much  readi- 
ness and  quickness  as  Daniel  Boone  would  have  put  a 
rifle-ball  into  the  head  of  an  Indian  the  moment  he  saw 
it  protrude  from  behind  a  tree,  so  did  Miss  Panney  con- 
centrate all  she  had  to  say  into  one  shot,  and  deliver 
it  quickly. 


"KEEP   HER  TO   HELP   YOU"  149 

"  Help  Miriam,  eh  ?  "  she  whispered ;  "  take  my  advice, 
my  boy,  and  keep  her  to  help  you."  And  without  an- 
other word  she  proceeded  to  the  drawing-room,  where 
she  seated  herself  in  the  most  comfortable  chair. 

Ralph  stood  still  a  minute  with  the  bag  on  his  shoul- 
der. He  scarcely  understood  what  had  been  said  to  him, 
but  the  words  had  been  so  well  aimed  and  sent  with  such 
force  that  before  he  reached  Miriam  and  the  pantry  his 
mind  was  illumined  by  the  shining  apparition  of  Dora 
as  his  partner  and  helpmate.  Two  minutes  before  there 
had  been  no  such  apparition.  It  is  true  that  his  mind 
had  been  filled  with  misty,  cloudlike  sensations,  entirely 
new  to  it,  but  the  words  of  the  old  lady  had  now  con- 
densed them  into  form. 

When  Miriam  was  informed  of  the  visitor  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, she  frowned  a  little,  and  made  up  a  queer  face, 
and  then,  taking  off  her  long  apron,  went  to  perform  her 
duty  as  lady  of  the  house. 

Ralph  returned  to  Dora,  and  as  he  looked  at  the  girl 
who  was  patting  the  neck  of  the  brown  mare,  she  seemed 
to  have  changed,  not  because  she  was  different  from 
what  she  had  been  a  few  minutes  before,  but  because  he 
looked  upon  her  differently.  As  he  approached,  every 
word  that  she  had  spoken  to  him  that  day  crowded  into 
his  memory.  The  last  thing  she  had  said  was  that  she 
would  wait  until  he  returned  to  her,  and  here  she  was, 
waiting.  When  he  spoke,  his  manner  had  lost  the  free- 
heartedness  of  a  little  while  before ;  there  was  a  slight 
diffidence  in  it. 

Hearing  that  Miss  Panney  was  in  the  house,  Dora 


150  THE   GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

turned  her  bonnet  downward,  and  she  also  frowned  a 
little. 

"  Why  should  that  old  person  come  in  this  very  morn- 
ing ?  "  she  thought. 

But  in  an  instant  the  front  of  the  bonnet  was  raised 
toward  Ralph,  and  upon  the  young  face  under  it  there 
was  not  a  shadow  of  dissatisfaction. 

"  Of  course  I  must  go  in  and  see  her,"  she  said,  and 
then,  speaking  as  if  Ralph  were  one  on  whom  she  had 
always  been  accustomed  to  rely  for  counsel,  "do  you 
think  I  need  go  upstairs  and  change  my  dress  ?  If  this 
is  good  enough  for  you  and  Miriam,  isn't  it  good  enough 
for  Miss  Panney  ?  " 

As  Ralph  gazed  into  the  blue  eyes  that  were  raised  to 
his,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  think  of  anything  for 
which  their  owner  was  not  good  enough.  This  impres- 
sion upon  him  was  so  strong  that  he  said,  with  blurting 
awkwardness,  that  she  looked  charming  as  she  was,  and 
needed  not  the  slightest  change.  The  value  of  this 
impulsive  remark  was  fully  appreciated  by  Dora,  but 
she  gave  no  sign  of  it,  and  simply  said  that  if  he  were 
suited,  she  was. 

They  were  moving  toward  the  house  when  Dora  sud- 
denly laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"You  have  forgotten  the  horse,  Mr.  Ralph,"  she 
said. 

The  touch  and  the  name  by  which  she  called  him  for 
the  first  time  made  the  young  man  forget,  for  an  instant, 
everything  in  the  world,  but  the  girl  who  had  touched 
and  spoken. 


151 


"  Have  you  anything  to  tie  her  with  ?  Oh,  yes,  there 
is  a  chain  on  that  post." 

As  Ralph  turned  the  horse  toward  the  hitching-post, 
Dora  ran  before  him,  and  stood  ready  with  the  chain 
in  her  hand. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said,  as  he  motioned  to  take  it  from 
her,  "  let  me  hook  it  on  her  bridle.  Don't  you  want  to 
let  me  help  you  at  all  ?  " 

As  side  by  side  Dora  and  Ralph  entered  the  drawing- 
room,  Miss  Panney  declared  in  her  soul  that  they  looked 
like  an  engaged  couple,  coming  to  ask  for  her  blessing. 
And  when  Dora  saluted  her  with  a  kiss,  and,  drawing 
up  a  stool,  took  a  seat  at  her  feet,  the  old  lady  gave  her 
her  blessing,  though  not  audibly. 

As  Miss  Panney  was  in  a  high  good  humor,  she  wanted 
everybody  else  to  be  so,  and  in  a  few  minutes  even  the 
sedate  Miriam  was  chatting  freely  and  pleasantly. 

"  And  so  that  graceless  Phoebe  has  left  you,"  said  the 
old  lady;  "to  board  the  minister,  indeed!  I  will  see 
that  minister,  and  give  him  a  text  for  a  sermon.  But 
you  cannot  keep  up  this  sort  of  thing,  my  young  friends ; 
not  even  with  Dora's  help."  And  she  stroked  the  soft 
hair  of  Miss  Bannister,  from  which  the  sunbonnet  had 
been  removed. 

"  I  will  see  Mike  before  I  go,  and  send  him  for  Molly 
Tooney.  Molly  is  a  good  enough  woman,  and  if  I  send 
for  her,  she  will  come  to  you  until  you  have  suited 
yourselves  with  servants.  And  now,  my  dear  child, 
where  did  you  find  that  gay  dress  ?  Upstairs  in  some 
old  trunk,  I  suppose.    Stand  over  there  and  let  me  look 


152  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

at  you.  It  is  a  good  forty  years  since  I  have  seen  that 
gown.  Do  you  know  to  whom  it  used  to  belong  ?  But 
of  course  you  do  not.  It  was  Judith  Pacewalk's  tea- 
berry  gown.'' 

"And  who  was  Judith  Pacewalk?''  asked  Dora; 
*'  and  why  was  it  teaberry  ?      It  is  not  teaberry  color." 

"No,"  said  Miss  Panney;  "the  color  had  nothing  to 
do  with  it,  but  I  must  say  it  has  kept  very  well.  Let  me 
see,"  taking  out  her  watch,  "  it  is  not  yet  eleven  o'clock, 
and  if  you  young  people  have  time  enough,  I  will  tell 
you  the  story  of  that  gown.  What  does  the  master 
say?" 

Ealph  declared  that*  they  must  have  the  story,  and 
that  time  must  not  be  considered. 


CHAPTEE  XVII 

JUDITH   pacewalk's    TEABERRY   GOWN 

"Judith  Pacewalk,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "was  Mat- 
thias Butterwood's  cousin.  Before  Matthias  got  rich 
and  built  this  house,  he  lived  with  his  Aunt  Pacewalk 
on  her  farm.  That  was  over  at  Pascalville,  about 
thirty  miles  from  here.  He  superintended  the  farm, 
and  Judith  and  he  were  very  good  friends,  although  he 
never  showed  any  signs  of  caring  anything  for  her  ex- 
cept in  the  way  of  a  cousin ;  but  she  cared  for  him. 
There  was  no  doubt  about  that.  I  lived  in  Pascalville, 
then,  and  used  to  be  a  great  deal  at  their  house,  and  it 


JUDITH  PACEWALK'S   TBABBRRY  GOWN        153 

was  as  plain  as  daylight  to  me  that  Judith  was  in  love 
with  her  cousin,  although  she  was  such  a  quiet  girl  that 
few  people  suspected  it,  and  I  know  he  did  not. 

"The  Pacewalks  were  poor,  and  always  had  been; 
and  it  could  not  be  expected  that  a  man  like  Matthias 
Butterwood  could  stay  long  on  that  little  farm.  He  had 
a  sharp  business  head,  and  was  a  money-maker,  and  as 
soon  as  he  was  able  he  bought  a  farm  of  his  own,  and 
this  is  the  farm;  but  there  was  no  house  on  it  then, 
except  the  little  one  that  Mike  now  lives  in.  But  Mat- 
thias had  grand  ideas  about  an  estate,  and  in  the  course 
of  five  years  he  built  this  house  and  the  great  barn,  and 
made  a  fine  estate  of  it. 

"  When  this  was  going  on,  he  still  lived  with  his  Aunt 
Pacewalk.  He  did  not  want  to  go  to  his  own  house 
until  everything  was  finished  and  ready.  Of  course, 
everybody  supposed  he  would  take  a  wife  there,  but  he 
never  said  anything  about  that,  and  gave  a  sniff  when 
the  subject  was  mentioned.  During  the  summer  in 
which  Cobhurst  was  finished  —  he  named  the  place  him- 
self—  he  told  his  aunt  that  in  the  fall  he  was  going 
there  to  live,  and  that  he  wanted  her  and  Judith  to 
come  there  and  make  him  a  visit  of  a  month.  He  said 
he  intended  to  have  his  relations  visit  him  by  turns, 
and  that  was  the  sort  of  family  he  would  have.  Now 
it  struck  me  that  if  Judith  went  there  and  played 
her  cards  properly,  she  could  stay  there  as  mistress. 
Although  she  was  a  girl  very  much  given  to  keeping 
her  own  counsel,  I  knew  very  well  that  she  had  sonjie^ 
thing  of  the  same  idea,. 


154  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

"As  I  said  before,  the  Pacewalks  were  poor,  and 
although  they  lived  well  enough,  money  was  scarce  with 
them,  and  it  was  seldom  that  they  were  able  to  spend 
any  of  it  for  clothes.  But  about  this  time  Judith  came 
to  me  —  I  was  visiting  them  at  the  time  —  and  talked 
a  little  about  herself,  which  was  uncommon.  She  said 
that  if  she  went  to  Matthias'  fine  new  house,  and  sat  at 
the  head  of  his  table,  —  and  of  course  that  would  be  her 
place  there,  as  it  was  at  her  mother's  table,  —  she  thought 
that  she  ought  to  dress  better  than  she  did.  ^  I  do  not 
mean,'  she  said,  ^that  I  want  any  fine  clothes  for  com- 
pany; but  I  ought  to  have  something  neat  and  proper 
for  everyday  wear,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me  to  think 
of  some  way  to  buy  it.'  So  we  talked  the  matter  over, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  best  way  to  do  was 
to  try  to  gather  teaberries  enough  to  pay  for  the  mate- 
rial for  a  chintz  gown. 

"  In  those  days  —  I  don't  know  how  it  is  now  — Pascal- 
ville  was  the  greatest  place  for  teaberries.  They  used 
them  as  a  flavor  for  candy,  ice-cream,  puddings,  cakes, 
and  I  don't  know  what  else.  They  made  summer  drinks 
of  it,  and  it  was  used  as  a  perfume  for  home-made  hair- 
washes  and  tooth-powder.  So  Judith  and  I  and  a  girl 
named  Dorcas  Stone,  who  was  a  friend  of  ours,  went  to 
work  gathering  teaberries  in  the  woods.  We  worked 
early  and  late,  and  got  enough  to  trade  off  at  the  store 
for  the  ten  yards  of  chintz  with  which  that  gown  is 
made. 

"  As  for  the  making  of  it,  Judith  and  I  did  all  that 
ourselves.     Dorcas  Stone  might  be  willing  enough  to  go 


JUDITH  PACEWALK's   TEABBRRY  GOWN        155 

with  us  to  pick  berries,  but  when  she  found  what  was 
to  be  bought  with  them,  she  drew  out  of  the  business. 
She  was  not  a  girl  who  was  particularly  sharp  about 
seeing  things  herself,  or  keeping  people  from  seeing 
through  her ;  but  she  wanted  to  marry  Matthias  Butter- 
wood,  and  when  she  found  Judith  was  to  have  a  new 
gown  she  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  which  was 
a  pity,  for  she  was  a  very  fine  sewer,  especially  as  to 
gathers. 

"  We  cut  the  gown  from  some  patterns  we  got  from  a 
magazine  ;  I  fitted  it,  and  we  both  sewed.  When  it  was 
done,  and  Judith  tried  it  on,  it  was  very  pretty  and  be- 
coming, and  she  looked  better  in  it  than  in  the  gown 
she  wore  when  she  went  to  a  party.  When  we  had  seen 
that  everything  was  all  right,  Judith  took  off  the  dress, 
folded  it  up,  and  put  it  away  in  a  drawer.  ^  Now,'  said 
she,  ^  I  shall  not  wear  that  until  I  go  to  Cobhurst.' 

"Well,  as  everybody  knows,  houses  are  never  finished 
at  the  time  they  are  expected  to  be,  and  that  was  the 
way  with  this  house,  and  as  Matthias  would  not  go  into 
it  until  everything  was  quite  ready,  the  moving  was  put 
off  and  put  off  until  it  began  to  be  cold  weather,  and 
then  he  said  he  would  not  go  into  it  until  spring,  for  it 
would  be  un6omfortable  to  live  in  the  new  house  in  the 
winter. 

"I  was  very  sorry  for  this,  for  I  thought  that  the 
sooner  Judith  got  here  the  better  her  chance  would  be 
for  staying  here  the  rest  of  her  life.  Judith  did  not  say 
much,  but  I  am  sure  she  was  sorry  too,  and  Matthias 
seemed  a  little  out  of  spirits,  as  if  he  were  getting  a  little 


166  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUEST 

tired  of  living  with  the  Pace  walks,  and  wanted  to  be  in 
his  own  house.  I  think  he  began  to  feel  more  like  see- 
ing people,  and  I  know  he  visited  the  Stones  a  good 
deal. 

^'  One  day  when  I  was  at  the  Pacewalks'  and  we  were 
sitting  alone,  he  looked  at  me  and  my  clothes,  and  then 
he  said,  ^  I  wish  Judith  cared  more  for  clothes  than  she 
does.  I  do  not  mean  getting  herself  up  for  high  days 
and  holidays,  but  her  everyday  clothes.  I  like  a  woman 
to  wear  neat  and  becoming  things  all  the  time.'  ^  I  am 
sure/  I  said,  '  Judith's  clothes  are  always  very  neat ! ' 

"  *  If  you  mean  clean,'  he  said,  ^  I  will  agree  to  that, 
but  when  the  color  is  all  washed  out  of  a  thing,  or  it  is 
faded  in  streaks  like  that  blue  gown  she  wears,  the  wear- 
ing of  it  day  after  day  is  bound  to  make  a  person  think 
that  a  young  woman  does  not  care  how  she  looks  to  her 
own  family,  and  I  do  not  like  young  women  not  to  care 
how  they  look  to  their  families,  especially  when  calico 
is  only  twelve  cents  a  yard,  and  needles  and  thread  cost 
almost  nothing.'  ^  Matthias,'  said  I,  ^  I  expect  you  have 
been  to  see  Dorcas  Stone,  and  are  comparing  her  clothes 
with  Judith's.  Now,  Dorcas'  father  is  a  well-to-do  man, 
and  Judith  hasn't  any  father,  and  she  does  the  best  she 
can  with  the  clothes  she  has.'  '  It  is  no'l  money  I  am 
talking  about,'  he  said,  ^it  is  disposition.  If  a  young 
woman  wants  to  look  well  in  her  own  family,  she  will 
find  some  way  to  do  it.  At  any  rate,  she  could  let  it  be 
tseen  that  she  is  not  satisfied  to  look  like  a  dowdy.'  And 
then  he  went  away. 

*'  This  was  the  first  tijae  that  Matthias  had  ever  spoken. 


JtTDITH  PACBWALK's  TEABEKRY  GOWN       157 

to  me  about  Judith,  and  I  knew  just  as  well  as  if  he 
had  told  me  that  it  was  Dorcas  Stone's  clothes  that  had 
got  him  into  that  way  of  thinking. 

"  More  than  that,  I  knew  he  would  never  have  taken 
the  trouble  to  say  that  much  about  Judith  if  he  had  not 
been  taking  more  interest  in  her  than  he  ever  had  before. 
He  was  a  practical,  businesslike  man,  and  I  believed  then, 
and  I  believe  now,  that  he  was  looking  for  some  one  to 
be  mistress  of  Cobhurst,  and  if  Judith  had  suited  his 
ideas  of  what  such  a  woman  ought  to  be,  he  would  have 
preferred  her  to  any  one  else.  I  think  that  was  about 
as  far  as  he  was  likely  to  go  in  such  matters  at  that  time, 
though  of  course  if  he  had  gotten  a  loving  wife,  he  might 
have  become  a  loving  husband,  for  Matthias  was  a  good 
fellow  at  bottom,  though  rather  hard  on  top. 

"When  he  had  gone,  I  went  straight  upstairs  to 
Judith,  and  said  to  her,  if  she  knew  what  was  good  for 
her,  she  would  get  out  that  teaberry  gown  and  put  it 
on  for  supper,  and  wear  it  regularly  at  meals  and  at 
all  times  when  it  would  be  suitable  as  a  house  gown. 
^  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort,'  she  said ;  *  I  got  it  to 
wear  when  I  go  to  Cobhurst,  and  I  shall  keep  it  until 
then.  If  I  put  it  on  now,  it  will  be  a  poor-looking  thing 
by  spring.'  I  told  her  that  was  all  nonsense,  and  she 
could  wear  that  and  get  another  in  the  spring,  but  she 
shook  her  head  and  was  not  to  be  moved.  Now,  I 
would  have  been  glad  enough  to  give  her  the  stuff  to 
make  a  new  gown,  but  I  had  hinted  at  that  sort  of  thing 
before,  and  did  not  intend  to  do  it  again,  for  she  was  a 
good  deal  prouder  than  she  was  poor.    Nor  could  I 


168  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

think  of  telling  her  what  Matthias  had  said,  for  not 
only  was  she  very  sensitive,  and  would  have  been  hurt 
that  he  should  have  talked  to  me  in  that  way  about  her, 
but  she  would  not  have  consented  to  dress  herself  on 
purpose  to  please  a  man's  fancy. 

"I  could  not  do  anything  more  then,  but  I  have 
always  been  a  matchmaker,  and  I  did  not  give  up  this 
match.  I  did  everything  I  could  to  make  Judith  look 
well  in  the  eyes  of  Matthias,  and  I  said  everything  I 
could  to  make  his  eyes  look  favorably  on  her,  but  it 
was  all  of  no  use.  Judith  went  to  a  Christmas  party, 
and  she  wore  a  purple  silk  gown  that  had  belonged  to 
her  mother.  It  was  rather  large  for  her,  and  a  good 
deal  heavier  than  anything  she  had  been  accustomed 
to  wear,  and  she  got  very  warm  in  the  crowded  room, 
and  coming  home  in  a  sleigh,  she  caught  cold,  and  died 
in  less  than  a  month. 

"  So  you  see,  my  dears,  Judith  Pacewalk  never  wore 
her  teaberry  gown,  in  which,  I  believe,  she  would  have 
been  mistress  of  Cobhurst.  When  her  mother  died, 
not  long  afterward,  everything  they  owned  went  to 
Matthias  and  his  brother  Eeuben.  The  Pacewalk  farm 
was  sold,  and  all  the  personal  property  of  both  brothers, 
including  that  disastrous  box  of  bones,  was  brought 
here,  where  it  is  yet,  I  suppose ;  and  so,  my  good  young 
people,  I  imagine  you  will  not  wonder  that  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  that  pink  gown  again,  having  helped, 
as  I  did,  with  every  seam,  pleat,  and  gather  of  it.  If 
you  will  look  at  it  closely,  you  will  see  that  there  is 
good  work  on  it,  for  Judith  and  I  knew  how  to  use 


JUDITH  PACEWALK*S  TEABERRY  GOWN        169 

our  needles  a  good  deal  better  than  most  ladies  do 
nowadays." 

Miriam  now  spoke  with  much  promptness. 

"  I  am  ever  so  glad  to  hear  that  story,  Miss  Panney," 
she  said,  "  and  as  that  teaberry  gown  should  have  been 
worn  by  the  mistress  of  Cobhurst,  I  intend  to  wear  it 
myself,  every  day,  as  long  as  it  lasts,  and  if  it  does  not 
fit  me,  I  can  alter  it." 

Whether  this  remark,  which  was  delivered  with  con- 
siderable spirit,  was  occasioned  by  the  young  girPs  nat- 
ural pride,  or  whether  a  little  jealousy  had  been  aroused 
by  the  evident  satisfaction  with  which  the  old  lady  gazed 
at  Dora,  arrayed  in  this  significant  garment.  Miss  Pan- 
ney could  not  know,  but  she  took  instant  alarm.  Noth- 
ing could  be  more  fatal  to  her  plans  than  to  seer  the 
sister  opposed  to  them.  She  had  been  delighted  at  the 
intimacy  that  had  evidently  sprung  up  between  her  and 
Dora,  but  she  knew  very  well  that  if  this  sedate  school- 
girl should  resent  any  interference  with  her  prerogatives, 
the  intimacy  would  be  in  danger. 

Miss  Panney  had  no  doubt  that  Dora  and  Kalph  were 
on  the  right  road,  and  would  do  very  well  if  left  to 
themselves,  but  she  scarcely  believed  that  the  young 
man  was  yet  sufficiently  in  love  to  brave  the  opposition 
of  his  sister,  which  would  be  all  the  more  wild  and  un- 
reasonable because  she  was  yet  a  girl,  and  in  a  position 
of  which  she  was  very  proud. 

For  Dora  and  Ralph  to  marry,  Dora  and  Miriam 
should  be  the  best  of  friends,  so  that  both  brother  and 
sister  should  desire  the  alliance,  and  in  furtherance  of 


160  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

this  happy  result,  Miss  Panney  determined  to  take  Dora 
away  with  her.  She  had  been  at  Cobhurst  long  enough 
to  produce  a  desirable  impression  upon  Ralph,  and  if 
she  stayed  longer,  there  was  no  knowing  what  might 
happen  between  her  and  Miriam.  Dora,  as  well  as  the 
other,  was  high-spirited  and  young,  and  it  was  as  likely 
as  not  that  as  she  showed  an  inclination  to  continue  to 
wear  the  teaberry  gown,  there  would  be  a  storm  in  which 
matrimonial  schemes  would  be  washed  out  of  sight. 

"  Dora,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "  I  am  now  going  to  drive 
to  Thorbury,  and  it  will  be  a  great  deal  better  for  you 
to  go  with  me  than  to  wait  for  your  brother,  for  it  may 
oe  very  late  in  the  day  before  he  can  come  for  you. 
And  more  than  that,  it  is  ten  to  one  that  by  this  time 
lie  has  forgotten  all  about  you,  especially  if  his  office 
IS  full  of  clients.  So  please  get  yourself  ready  as  soon 
as  possible.  And,  Miriam,  if  you  will  come  over  to  see 
me  some  morning,  and  bring  that  teaberry  gown  with 
you,  I  will  alter  it  to  fit  you,  and  arrange  it  so  that  you 
can  do  the  sewing  yourself.  It  is  very  appropriate  that 
the  little  lady  of  the  house  should  wear  that  gown." 

Into  the  minds  of  Dora  and  Miss  Panney  there  came, 
simultaneously,  this  idea :  that  no  matter  how  much  or 
how  often  Miriam  might  wear  that  gown,  she  would  not 
be  the  first  one  whom  it  had  figuratively  invested  with 
the  prerogatives  of  the  mistress  of  Cobhurst. 

Miss  Bannister,  who  well  knew  her  brother's  habits, 
agreed  to  the  old  lady's  suggestion,  and  it  was  well  she 
did  so,  for  when  she  got  home,  Herbert  declared  that  he 
had  been  puzzling  his  mind  to  devise  a  plan  for  sending 


BLARNEY  FLUFF  161 

for  his  sister  and  the  broken  buggy  on  the  same  after- 
noon.    As  for  going  himself,  it  was  impossible. 

When  Dora  came  downstairs  arrayed  in  her  proper 
costume,  Ealph  thought  her  a  great  deal  prettier  than 
when  she  wore  the  pink  chintz.  Miss  Panney  thought 
so,  too,  and  she  managed  to  leave  them  together,  while 
she  went  with  Miriam  to  get  pen  and  paper  with  which 
to  write  a  note  to  Molly  Tooney. 

^'  Molly  cannot  read,''  said  the  old  lady,  *'  but  if  Mike 
will  take  that  to  her,  she  will  come  to  you  and  stay  as 
long  as  you  like,"  and  then  she  went  on  to  talk  about  the 
woman  until  she  thought  that  Ealph  and  Dora  had  had 
about  five  minutes  together,  which  she  considered  enough. 

"  You  must  both  come  and  see  me,"  cried  Miss  Bannis- 
ter, as,  leaning  from  the  phaeton,  she  stretched  out  her 
hand  to  Miriam. 

"  Indeed  we  shall  do  so,"  said  Ealph,  and  as  his  sister 
relinquished  the  hand  of  the  visitor  he  took  it  himself. 

Miss  Panney  was  not  one  of  those  drivers  who  start 
off  with  a  jerk.  Had  she  been  such  a  one.  Miss .  Bannis- 
ter might  have  been  pulled  against  the  side  of  the 
phaeton,  for  the  grasp  was  cordial. 


CHAPTEE  XVIII 

BLARNEY    FLUFF 

About  three  o'clock  that  afternoon.  La  Fleur,  Mrs. 
Tolbridge's  cook,  sat  in  the  middle  of  her  very  pleasant 
kitchen,  composing  the  dinner.     Had  she  been  the  chef 


162  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

of  a  princely  mansion,  she  could  not  have  given  the  sub- 
ject more  earnest  nor  intelligent  consideration.  It  is 
true  the  materials  at  hand  were  not  those  from  which  a 
dinner  for  princes  would  have  been  prepared.  But  what 
she  had  was  sufficient  for  the  occasion,  and  this  repast 
for  a  country  gentleman  in  moderate  circumstances  and 
his  wife  was  planned  with  conscientiousness  as  well  as 
skill.  From  the  first  she  had  known  very  well  that  it 
would  be  fatal  to  her  pretensions  to  prepare  for  the 
Tolbridges  an  expensive  and  luxurious  meal,  but  she 
had  determined  that  they  should  never  sit  down  to  any 
but  a  good  one. 

Her  soup  had  been  determined  upon  and  was  off  her 
mind,  and  she  had  prepared  that  morning,  from  some 
residuary  viands,  which  would  have  been  wasted  had  she 
not  used  them  in  this  way,  the  little  entree  which  was  to 
follow.  Her  filet,  which  the  butcher  had  that  morning 
declared  he  never  separated  from  the  contiguous  portions 
for  any  one,  but  had  very  soon  afterward  cut  out  for  her, 
lay  in  the  refrigerator,  awaiting  her  pleasure  and  con- 
venience. The  vegetables  had  been  chosen,  and  her 
thoughts  were  now  intent  upon  a  "  sweet "  which  should 
harmonize  with  the  other  courses. 

On  a  chair,  by  the  door  opening  into  the  garden,  sat 
George,  the  doctor's  man,  who  was  coachman,  groom,  and 
gardener,  and  who,  having  picked  a  basket  of  peas,  had 
been  requested  to  shell  them.  By  an  open  window, 
Amanda,  the  chambermaid,  was  extracting  the  stones 
from  a  little  dish  of  olives. 

George  was  working  rapidly  and  a  little  impatiently. 


BLARNEY  I'LtJi'J*  163 

"Madam,"  said  he,  "do  you  want  all  these  peas 
shelled?" 

La  Fleur  turned  and  looked  at  him  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

"I  want  enough  to  surround  my  filet,  but  whether 
you  shell  enough  for  us  to  have  any,  depends  entirely 
on  your  good  will,  George." 

"  Of  course  I'll  shell  as  many  as  you  want,"  said  he, 
"  but  IVe  got  a  lot  to  do  this  afternoon.  There  is  the 
phaeton  to  be  washed,  that  I  don't  want  the  doctor  to 
come  home  and  find  muddy  yet;  and  I  ought  to  have 
done  it  this  morning,  madam,  when  I  was  walking  about 
the  garden  with  you,  a  tellin'  you  what  I  had  and  a 
hearin'  what  I  ought  to  have." 

"I  was  so  glad  to  have  you  go  with  me,  and  show 
me  everything,"  said  La  Fleur,  "because  I  do  not  yet 
exactly  understand  American  gardens.  It  is  such  a 
nice  garden,  too,  and  you  do  not  know  how  pleased  I 
was,  after  you  left  me  and  I  was  coming  to  the  house, 
to  see  that  fine  bed  of  aubergines.  When  will  any  of 
them  be  ripe,  do  you  think,  George?" 

The  man  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"  There  is  nothing  of  that  sort  in  my  garden,"  said  he. 
"  I  never  heard  of  them." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  have,"  said  La  Fleur,  "  you  call  them 
egg-plants.  You  see,  I  am  learning  your  American 
names  for  things.  And  now,  Amanda,  if  you  have 
finished  the  olives  I'll  get  you  to  make  a  fine  powder 
of  those  things  which  I  have  put  into  the  mortar. 
Thump  and  grind  them  well  with  the  pestle;  they 
are  to  make  the  stuffing  for  the  olives." 


164  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURSt 

"  But,  madam,  what  is  to  become  of  the  sewing  Mrs. 
Tolbridge  wants  me  to  do?  I  have  only  hemmed  two 
of  the  dozen  napkins  she  gave  me  to  do  day  before 
yesterday." 

"  Now,  Amanda,"  said  La  Fleur,  "  yon  ought  to  know 
very  well,  that  without  a  meal  on  the  table,  napkins  are 
of  no  use.  You  might  have  the  meals  without  napkins, 
but  it  wouldn't  work  the  other  way.  And  I  am  sure 
those  napkins  are  not  to  be  used  for  a  week,  or  perhaps 
several  weeks,  and  this  dinner  must  be  eaten  to-day.  So 
you  can  see  for  yourself — " 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  knock  at  the  inner  door 
of  the  kitchen. 

"  Who  can  that  be !  "  exclaimed  La  Fleur.     "  Come  in." 

The  door  opened,  and  Miss  Panney  entered  the  kitchen. 
La  Fleur  rose  from  her  seat,  and  for  a  moment  the  two 
elderly  women  stood  and  looked  at  each  other. 

"  And  this  is  La  Fleur,"  said  Miss  Panney ;  "  Mrs.  Tol- 
bridge has  been  talking  abi/ut  you,  and  I  asked  her  to  let 
me  come  in  and  see  you.  I  want  to  speak  to  you  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  I  will  sit  down  here.  Don't  you  stand 
up." 

La  Fleur  liked  people  to  come  and  talk  to  her,  pro- 
vided they  were  the  right  sort  of  people,  and  came  in 
the  right  way.  Miss  Panney's  salutation  pleased  her; 
she  had  a  respect  for  people  who  showed  a  proper 
recognition  of  differences  of  position.  If  Miss  Panney 
had  been  brought  into  the  kitchen  by  Mrs.  Tolbridge 
and  in  a  manner  introduced  to  La  Fleur,  the  latter 
would  have  regarded  her  as  something  of   an  equal, 


BLARNEY   FLUFF  165 

and  would  not  have  respected  her.  Had  the  old  lady 
accosted  her  in  a  supercilious  manner,  La  Fleur  would 
have  disliked  her,  even  if  she  had  supposed  she  were 
a  person  to  be  respected.  But  Miss  Panney  had  filled 
all  the  requirements  necessary  for  the  cook's  favorable 
opinion.  In  the  few  words  she  had  spoken,  she  had 
shown  that  she  was  a  friend  of  the  mistress  of  the 
house;  that  she  had  heard  interesting  things  of  the 
cook,  and  therefore  wished  to  see  her;  that  she  knew 
this  cook  was  a  woman  of  sense,  who  understood  what 
was  befitting  to  her  position,  and  would  therefore  stand 
when  talking  to  a  lady,  and,  moreover,  in  consequence 
of  the  fact  that  this  cook  was  superior  to  her  class, 
she  would  waive  the  privileges  of  her  class,  and  request 
the  cook  to  sit,  while  talking  to  her.  To  have  waived 
this  privilege  without  first  indicating  that  she  knew 
La  Fleur  would  acknowledge  her  possession  of  it,  would 
have  been  damaging  to  Miss  Panney. 

Upon  the  features  of  La  Fleur,  which  were  inclined 
to  be  bulbous,  there  now  appeared  a  smile,  which  was 
very  different  from  that  with  which  she  encouraged  and 
soothed  her  conscripted  assistants.  It  was  a  smile  that 
showed  that  she  was  pleasurably  honored,  and  it  was 
accompanied  by  a  slight  bow  and  a  downward  glance. 
Then  turning  to  the  man  and  the  maid,  she  told  them  in 
a  low  voice  that  they  might  go,  a  permission  of  which 
they  instantly  availed  themselves. 

Miss  Panney  now  sat  down,  and  La  Fleur,  pushing  her 
chair  a  little  away  from  the  table,  availed  herself  of  the 
permission  to  do  likewise, 


166  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  I  have  eaten  some  of  your  cooking,  La  Fleur,"  said 
Miss  Panney,  "  and  I  liked  it  so  much  that  I  wished  to 
ask  you  something  about  it.  For  one  thing,  where  did 
you  get  that  recipe  for  that  delicious  ice,  flavored  with 
raspberry  ?  " 

The  cook  smiled  with  a  new  smile  —  one  of  genuine 
pleasure. 

"  To  make  that  ice,'^  she  answered,  "  one  must  have 
more  than  a  recipe :  one  must  be  educated.  Tolati,  my 
first  husband,  invented  that  ice,  and  no  chef  in  Europe 
could  make  it  but  himself.  But  he  taught  me,  and  I 
make  it  for  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Tolbridge.  It  has  a  quality  of 
cream,  though  there  Is  no  cream  in  it." 

"  I  never  tasted  anything  of  the  kind  so  good,"  said 
Miss  Panney,  "  and  I  am  a  judge,  for  I  have  lived  long 
and  eaten  meals  prepared  by  the  best  cooks." 

"  French,  perhaps,"  said  La  Fleur. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  those  of  other  nations. 
I  have  travelled." 

"  I  could  see  that,"  said  La  Fleur,  "  by  your  apprecia- 
tion of  my  work.  French  cooking  is  the  best  in  the 
world,  and  if  you  have  an  English  cook  to  do  it,  then 
there  is  nothing  more  to  be  desired.  It  is  like  the  French 
china,  with  the  English  designs,  which  they  make  now. 
I  once  visited  their  works,  and  was  very  proud  of  my 
countrymen." 

"  The  conceited  old  body,"  thought  Miss  Panney ;  but 
she  said,  "  Very  true,  very  true.  It  is  delightful  to  me 
to  think  that  my  friends  here  have  a  cook  who  can  pre- 
pare meals  which  are  truly  fit,  uot  only  to  nourish  the 


BLARNEY  FLUFF  167 

body  without  doing  it  any  harm,  but  to  gratify  the  most 
inteUigent  taste.  I  have  noticed,  La  Fleur,  that  there  is 
always  something  about  your  dishes  that  pleases  the  eye 
as  well  as  the  palate.  When  we  say  that  cooking  is 
thoroughly  wholesome,  delicious,  and  artistic,  we  can 
say  no  more." 

"You  do  me  proud,"  said  La  Fleur,  "and  I  hope, 
madam,  that  you  may  eat  many  a  meal  of  my  cooking. 
I  want  to  say  this,  too :  I  could  not  cook  for  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Tolbridge  as  I  do,  if  I  did  not  feel  that  they  appreciate 
my  work.  I  know  they  do,  and  so  I  am  encouraged  to 
do  my  best." 

"Not  only  does  the  doctor  appreciate  you,"  said  Miss 
Panney,  "  but  his  health  depends  upon  you.  He  is  a  man 
who  is  peculiarly  sensitive  to  bad  cooking.  I  have  known 
him  all  his  life,  and  known  him  well.  He  was  getting 
in  a  bad  way.  La  Fleur,  when  you  came  here,  and  you  are 
already  making  a  new  man  of  him." 

"  I  like  to  hear  that,"  said  La  Fleur.  "  I  have  a  high 
opinion  of  Dr.  Tolbridge.  I  know  what  he  is  and  what 
he  needs.  I  often  sit  up  late  at  night,  thinking  of  things 
that  will  be  good  for  him,  and  which  he  will  like.  We 
all  work  here :  every  one  of  the  household  is  industrious, 
but  the  doctor  and  I  are  the  only  ones  who  must  work 
with  our  brains.  The  others  simply  work  with  their 
bodies  and  hands." 

Miss  Panney  fixed  her  black  eyes  on  the  bulbous- 
faced  cook. 

"  The  word  conceit,"  she  thought,  "  is  imbecile  in  this 


168  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUEST 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  both  so  well  able  to  do  it,"  she 
said  aloud.  "  And  you  like  it  here  ?  The  place  suits 
you  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  madam,"  replied  La  Fleur;  "it  suits  me 
very  well.  It  is  not  what  I  am  accustomed  to,  but  I 
gave  up  all  that  of  my  own  accord.  Life  in  great  houses 
has  its  advantages  and  its  pleasures,  and  its  ambitions, 
too;  but  I  am  getting  on  in  years,  and  I  am  tired  of 
the  worry  and  bustle  of  large  households.  I  came  to 
this  country  to  visit  my  relatives,  and  to  rest  and  enjoy 
myself ;  but  I  soon  found  that  I  could  not  live  without 
cooking.  You  might  as  well  expect  Dr.  Tolbridge  to 
live  without  reading.  ** 

"That  is  very  true.  La  Meur,"  said  Miss  Panney; 
"and  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  in  the  very  home 
where  you  can  spend  the  rest  of  your  days  most  profit- 
ably to  others,  and  most  happily  to  yourself.  And  yet 
I  hear  that  you  are  considering  the  possibility  of  not 
staying  here." 

"Yes,"  answered  Lat  Fleur,  "I  am  considering  that; 
but  it  is  not  because  I  am  dissatisfied  with  anything 
here.  It  is  altogether  a  different  question.  I  am  very 
much  attached  to  the  family  I  first  lived  with  in  this 
country.  They  are  in  trouble  now,  and  I  think  they 
may  need  me.  If  they  do,  I  shall  go  to  them.  I  have 
quite  settled  all  that  in  my  mind.  I  am  now  waiting 
for  an  answer  to  a  letter  I  have  written  to  Mrs. 
Drane." 

"La  Fleur,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "if  you  leave  Dr. 
Tolbridge,  I  think  it  will   be  a  great  mistake;  and, 


BLARNEY  FLUFF  169 

although  I  do  not  want  to  hurt  your  feelings,  I  feel 
bound  to  say  that  it  will  be  almost  a  crime." 

The  cook's  face  assumed  an  expression  of  firmness. 

"All  that  may  be,"  she  said,  "but  it  makes  no  dif- 
ference.    If  they  need  me,  I  shall  go  to  them." 

"  But  cannot  somebody  else  be  found  to  go  to  them  ? 
You  are  not  as  necessary  there  as  you  are  here,  nor  so 
highly  prized.     They  let  you  go  of  their  own  accord." 

"Ko  one  else  will  go  to  them  for  nothing,"  said  La 
Fleur,  "and  I  shall  do  that." 

Miss  Panney  sat  with  her  brows  knit. 

"If  the  Dranes  have  become  poor,"  she  said  pres- 
ently, "it  is  natural  that  you  should  want  to  help 
them;  but  it  may  not  be  at  all  necessary  that  you 
should  go  to  them.  In  fact,  by  doing  that,  you  might 
embarrass  them  very  much.  There  are  only  two  of 
them,  I  believe,  —  mother  and  daughter.  Do  they  do 
anything  to  support  themselves  ?  " 

"  Miss  Cicely  is  trying  to  get  a  situation  as  teacher. 
If  she  can  do  that,  she  can  support  her  mother.  At 
present  they  are  doing  nothing,  and  I  fear  have  noth- 
ing to  live  on.  I  know  my  going  to  them  would  not 
embarrass  them.  I  can  help  them  in  ways  you  do  not 
think  of." 

"La  Meur,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "your  feelings  are 
highly  honorable  to  you,  but  you  are  not  going  about 
this  business  in  the  right  way.  I  have  heard  of  the 
Drane  family,  and  know  what  sort  of  people  they  are. 
They  would  not  have  you  work  for  them  for  nothing, 
and  perhaps  buy  with  your  own  money  the  food  yoij 


170  THE  GIRL   AT   COBHURST 

cook.  What  should  be  done  is  to  help  them  to  help 
themselves.  If  Miss  Drane  wishes  a  position  as  teacher, 
one  should  be  got  for  her/' 

"  That  is  out  of  my  line/'  said  La  Fleur,  shaking  her 
head,  "  out  of  my  line.  I  can  cook  for  them,  but  I  can't 
help  them  to  be  teachers." 

"But  perhaps  I  can,  and  I  am  going  to  try.  What 
you  have  told  me  encourages  me  very  much.  To  get 
a  position  as  teacher  for  Miss  Drane  ought  to  be  easy 
enough.  To  get  Dr.  Tolbridge  a  cook  who  could  take 
your  place  would  be  impossible." 

La  Fleur  smiled.     "  I  believe  that,"  she  said. 

"  Now  what  I  do  *is  for  the  sake  of  the  doctor,"  con- 
tinued Miss  Panney.  "  I  do  not  know  the  Dranes  per- 
sonally, but  I  have  no  objection  to  benefit  them  if  I  can. 
But  for  the  sake  of  a  friend  whom  I  have  known  all  his 
days,  I  wish  to  keep  you  in  this  kitchen.  I  am  not 
afraid  to  say  this  to  you,  because  I  know  you  are  not 
a  person  who  would  take  advantage  of  the  opinion  in 
which  you  are  held,  to  make  demands  upon  the  family 
which  they  could  not  satisfy." 

"  You  need  not  say  anything  about  that,  madam,"  re- 
plied La  Fleur.  "Nobody  can  tell  me  anything  about 
my  work  and  value  which  I  did  not  know  before,  and 
as  for  my  salary,  I  fixed  that  myself,  and  there  shall  be 
no  change." 

Miss  Panney  rose.  "  La  Fleur,"  she  said,  "  I  am  very 
glad  I  came  here  to  talk  to  you.  I  did  not  suppose  that 
I  should  meet  with  such  a  sensible  woman,  and  I  shall 
ask  a  favor  of  you  j  please  do  not  take  any  steps  in  this 


BLABNBY   FLUFF  171 

matter  without  consulting  me.  I  am  going  to  work 
immediately  to  see  what  I  can  do  for  Miss  Drane,  and 
if  I  succeed  it  will  be  far  better  for  her  and  her  mother 
than  if  you  went  to  them.     Don't  you  see  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  La  Fleur,  "  that  is  reasonable  enough,  but 
I  must  admit  that  I  should  like  to  see  them." 

Miss  Panney  ignored  the  latter  remark. 

"  Now  do  not  forget.  La  Fleur,"  she  said,  "  to  send  me 
word  when  you  get  a  letter,  and  then  I  may  write  to 
Miss  Drane,  but  I  shall  go  to  work  for  her  immediately. 
And  now  I  will  leave  you  to  go  on  with  your  dinner. 
I  shall  dine  here  to-day,  and  I  shall  enjoy  the  meal  so 
much  better  because  I  know  the  chef  who  prepared  it." 

La  Fleur  resumed  her  seat  and  the  consideration  of 
her  "  sweet." 

"She  is  a  wheedling  old  body,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  but  I  suppose  I  ought  to  give  her  something  extra  for 
that  speech." 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Tolbridge  came  into  the 
kitchen.  "La  Fleur,"  said  she,  "what  is  the  name  of 
that  delicious  dessert  you  gave  us  last  night?" 

The  cook  sighed.  "  She  will  always  call  the  *  sweet ' 
a  dessert,"  she  thought ;  and  then  she  answered,  "  That 
was  Blarney  Fluff,  ma'am,  with  sauce  Irlandaise." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  laughed.  "  Whatever  is  its  name,"  she 
said,  "we  all  thought  it  was  the  sweetest  and  softest, 
most  delightful  thing  of  the  kind  we  had  ever  tasted. 
Miss  Panney  was  particularly  pleased  with  it." 

"  I  hoped  she  would  be,"  said  La  Fleur. 


172  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MISS    PANNEY   IS    "TOOK   SUDDEN " 

"  I  HAVE  spoken  to  Mr.  Ames  about  it,"  said  Dr.  Tol- 
bridge  to  Miss  Panney,  as  two  days  later  they  were 
sitting  together  in  his  office,  "  and  we  are  both  agreed 
that  teachers  in  Thorbury  are  like  the  vines  on  the  gable 
ends  of  our  church ;  they  are  needed  there,  but  they  do 
not  flourish.  You  see,  so  many  of  our  people  send  their 
children  away  to  school,  that  is,  when  they  are  really  old 
enough  to  learn  anything." 

"I  would  do  it  too,  if  I  had  children,"  said  the  old 
lady ;  "  but  this  is  a  matter  which  rises  above  the  ordi- 
nary points  of  view.  I  do  not  believe  that  you  look  at  it 
properly,  for  if  you  did  you  would  not  sit  there  and  talk 
so  coolly.  Do  you  appreciate  the  fact  that  if  Miss  Drane 
does  not  soon  get  something  to  do,  you  will  be  living  on 
soggy,  half-baked  bread,  greasy  fried  meat,  water-soaked 
vegetables,  and  muddy  coffee,  and  every  one  of  your 
higher  sentiments  will  be  merged  in  dyspepsia  ?  " 

The  doctor  smiled.  "  I  did  not  suppose  it  would  be  as 
bad  as  that,"  he  said ;  "  but  if  what  you  say  is  true,  let 
us  skip  about  instantly,  and  do  something." 

"  That  is  the  sort  of  action  that  I  am  trying  to  goad 
you  into,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Oh,  I  will  do  what  I  can,"  said  the  doctor,  "  but  I 
really  think  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  here,  and  at  this 
season.     People  do  not  want  teachers  in  summer,  and  I 


MISS  PANNEY  IS  "TOOK  SUDDEN**  173 

see  no  promise  of  a  later  demand  of  this  sort  in  Thor- 
bury.     We  must  try  elsewhere." 

"Not  yet,"  said  the  other.  "I  shall  not  give  up 
Thorbury  yet.  It  is  easier  for  us  to  work  for  Miss  Drane 
here  than  anywhere  else,  because  we  are  here,  and  we 
are  not  anywhere  else.  Moreover,  she  will  like  to  come 
here,  for  then  she  will  not  be  among  strangers ;  so  please 
let  us  exhaust  Thorbury  before  thinking  of  any  other 
place." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  doctor,  leaning  back  in  his  chair, 
"and  now  let  us  exhaust  Thorbury  as  fast  as  we  can, 
before  a  patient  comes  in.     I  am  expecting  one." 

"  If  she  comes,  she  can  wait,"  said  Miss  Panney.  "  You 
have  a  case  here  which  is  acute  and  alarming,  and  cannot 
be  trifled  with." 

"  How  do  you  know  I  expect  a  *  she '  ?  '^  asked  the 
doctor. 

"  If  it  had  been  a  man,  he  would  have  been  here  and 
gone,"  said  Miss  Panney. 

Miss  Panney  knew  as  well  as  any  one  that  immediate 
employment  as  a  teacher  could  be  rarely  obtained  in 
summer,  and  for  this  reason  she  wished  to  confine  her 
efforts  to  the  immediate  neighborhood,  where  personal 
persuasion  and  influence  might  be  brought  into  action. 
Moreover,  she  had  said  to  herself,  "  If  we  cannot  get  any 
teaching  for  the  girl,  we  must  get  her  something  else  to 
do,  for  the  present.  But  whatever  is  to  be  done  must  be 
done  here  and  now,  or  the  old  woman  will  be  off  before 
we  know  it." 

She  sat  for  a  few  moments  with  her  brows  knitted  in 


174  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

thought.  Suddenly  she  exclaimed,  "  Is  it  Susan  Clopsey 
you  expect  ?  Very  well,  then,  I  will  make  an  exception 
in  her  favor.  She  is  just  coming  in  at  the  gate,  and  I 
would  not  interfere  with  your  practice  on  her  for  any- 
thing. She  has  got  money  and  a  spinal  column,  and  as 
long  as  they  both  last  she  is  more  to  be  depended  on 
than  government  bonds.  If  her  troubles  ever  get  into 
her  legs,  and  I  have  reason  to  believe  they  will,  you  can 
afford  to  hire  a  little  maid  for  your  cook.  Old  Daniel 
Clopsey,  her  grandfather,  died  at  ninety-five,  and  he  had 
then  the  same  doctorable  rheumatism  that  he  had  at  fifty. 
I  have  something  to  think  over,  and  I  will  come  in  again 
when  she  is  gone."      * 

"  Depart,  0  mercenary  being ! "  exclaimed  the  doctor, 
"  before  you  abase  my  thoughts  from  sulphate  of  quinia 
to  filthy  lucre." 

"  Lucre  is  never  filthy  until  you  lose  it,"  said  the  old 
lady  as  she  went  out  on  the  back  piazza,  and  closed  the 
door  behind  her. 

About  twenty  minutes  later  she  burst  into  the  doctor's 
office.  "  Mercy  on  us !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  are  you  here 
yet,  Susan  Clopsey  ?  I  must  see  you,  doctor ;  but  don't 
you  go,  Susan.  I  won't  keep  him  more  than  two 
minutes." 

"  Oh,  don't  mind  me,"  cried  Miss  Clopsey,  a  parched 
maiden  of  twoscore.  "I  can  wait  just  as  well  as  not. 
Where  is  the  pain.  Miss  Panney?  Were  you  took 
sudden  ?  " 

"  Like  the  pop  of  a  jackbox.  Come,  doctor,  I  must 
see  you  in  the  parlor." 


MISS   PANNEY  IS   "TOOK  SUDDEN"  175 

"Can  I  do  anything?"  asked  Miss  Clopsey,  risirfg. 
"  How  dreadful !     Shall  I  go  for  hot  water  ?  " 

"Oh,  don't  be  alarmed,"  said  Miss  Panney,  hurrying 
the  amazed  doctor  out  of  the  room ;  "  it  is  chronic.  He 
will  be  back  in  no  time." 

Miss  Clopsey,  left  alone  in  the  office,  sank  back  in  her 
chair. 

"Chronic  by  jerks,"  she  sighed;  "there  can  be  few 
things  worse  than  that;  and  at  her  age,  too!" 

"  What  can  be  the  matter  ?  "  asked  the  doctor,  as  the 
two  stood  in  the  parlor. 

"  It  is  an  idea,"  said  Miss  Panney ;  "  you  cannot  think 
with  what  violence  it  seized  me.  Doctor,  what  became  of 
that  book  you  wrote  on  the  ^  Diagnosis  of  Sympathy '  ?  " 

The  doctor  opened  his  eyes  in  astonishment. 

"Nothing  has  become  of  it.  It  has  been  in  my  desk 
for  two  years.     I  have  not  had  time  even  to  copy  it." 

"  And  of  course  your  writing  could  not  be  trusted  to  a 
printer.  Now  what  you  should  do  is  this :  employ  that 
Drane  girl  to  copy  your  manuscript.  She  can  do  it  here, 
and  if  she  comes  to  a  word  she  cannot  make  out,  she  can 
ask  you.  That  will  keep  her  going  until  autumn,  and 
by  that  time  we  can  get  her  some  scholars." 

"  Miss  Panney,"  said  the  doctor,  "  are  you  going  crazy  ? 
I  cannot  afford  charity  on  that  scale." 

"  Charity !  "  repeated  the  old  lady,  sarcastically.  "  A 
pretty  word  to  use.  By  that  sort  of  charity  you  give 
yourself  one  of  the  greatest  of  earthly  blessings,  in  the 
shape  of  La  Pleur,  and  you  get  out  a  book  which  will 
certainly  be  a  benefit  to  the  world,  and  will,  I  believe, 


176  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

bring  you  fame  and  profit.  And  you  are  frightened  by 
the  paltry  sum  that  will  be  necessary  to  pay  the  board 
of  the  girl  and  her  mother  for  perhaps  two  months. 
Now  do  not  condemn  this  plan  until  you  have  had 
time  to  consider  it.  Go  back  to  your  Clopsey;  I  am 
going  to  find  Mrs.  Tolbridge  and  talk  to  her." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  TEABERRT  GOWN  IS  TOO  LARGE 

When  Dora  Bannister  had  gone  away  in  Miss  Panney^s 
phaeton,  Miriam  walked  gravely  into  the  house,  followed 
by  her  brother. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  I  must  go  to  work  in  earnest." 

"  Work  ! "  exclaimed  Ralph.  "  I  think  you  have  been 
working  a  good  deal  harder  than  you  ought  to  work,  and 
certainly  a  good  deal  harder  than  I  intend  you  to  work. 
As  soon  as  he  has  had  his  dinner,  Mike  shall  take 
the  wagon,  and  go  after  the  woman  Miss  Panney  told 
us  of." 

"  Of  course  I  have  been  working,"  said  Miriam,  "  but 
while  Dora  Bannister  was  here,  what  we  did  was  not 
like  straightforward  work ;  it  all  seemed  to  mean  some- 
thing that  was  not  just  plain  housekeeping.  For  one 
thing,  the  dough  I  intended  to  bake  into  bread  was 
nearly  all  used  up  in  making  those  rolls  that  Dora 
worked  up  into  such  pretty  shapes ;  and  now,  if  the  new 
woman  comes,  I  shall  not  have  another  chance  to  try  my 


THE  TEABBRRY  GOWN  IS  TOO  LARGE    177 

hand  at  making  bread  until  she  leaves  us,  for  I  am  not 
going  to  do  anything  of  the  sort  with  a  servant  watching 
me.  And  there  are  all  those  raspberries  we  picked  this 
morning.  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  what  to  do  with 
them,  for  there  are  ever  so  many  more  than  we  shall 
want  to  eat  with  cream.  What  was  it,  Kalph,  that  you 
said  you  liked,  made  of  raspberries  ?  " 

Ralph  looked  a  little  puzzled. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  it  must  have  been  something  of 
the  tart  order.     What  did  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"  You  did  not  tell  me  anything,"  said  Miriam,  "  and  I 
do  not  believe  that  tarts  are  ever  made  of  raspberries. 
Dora  Bannister  said  she  wanted  to  cook  something  for 
you  that  you  told  her  you  liked,  but  as  you  have  for- 
gotten what  it  was,  I  suppose  it  does  not  make  much 
difference  now." 

Ralph  had  said  so  many  things  to  Dora  that  he  could 
not  remember  what  remark  he  had  made  about  cooked 
raspberries ;  but  it  delighted  him  to  think  that,  whatever 
it  was,  Dora  had  wished  to  make  it  for  him. 

After  dinner  Miriam  went  up  to  her  room,  where  upon 
the  bed  lay  Judith  Pacewalk's  teaberry  gown.  She  took 
off  her  own  school-girl  dress,  and  put  on  the  pink  gown. 
It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  worn  the  clothes  of  a 
woman.  When  she  had  attired  herself  in  the  silken 
robe  which  had  been  so  fatal  to  the  fortunes  and  life  of 
Judith  Pacewalk,  it  had  been  slipped  on  in  masquerade 
fashion,  debased  from  its  high  position  to  a  mere  protec- 
tion from  spilt  milk.  Miriam  had  thought  of  the  purple 
silk  when  Miss  Panney  was  telling  her  story,  and  had 


178  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHtJRST 

said  to  herself  that  if  the  stall  in  the  cow-stable  had 
been  ever  so  much  darker  and  dirtier,  and  if  the  milk 
stains  had  been  more  and  bigger,  the  career  of  that  robe 
would  have  ended  all  the  more  justly. 

The  teaberry  gown  was  too  long  for  Miriam,  and  too 
large  in  every  way.  She  knew  that  for  herself;  but 
hearing  Ralph's  footsteps  outside,  she  had  a  longing  to 
know  what  he  would  say  on  the  subject,  so,  holding  up 
her  skirt  to  keep  herself  from  tripping,  she  ran  down- 
stairs and  called  him  into  the  big  hall. 

"How  do  you  like  me  in  the  teaberry  gown?"  she 
asked. 

Without  a  thought  of  any  figurative  significance  con» 
nected  with  the  dress,  Ralph  only  saw  that  it  was  as 
unsuitable  to  his  sister  as  it  had  been  well  suited  to  Dora. 

"  You  will  have  to  grow  a  good  deal  bigger  and  older 
before  you  are  able  to  fill  that  gown,  my  little  one,"  he 
said. 

"That  is  not  the  way  I  do  things,"  said  Miriam,  se- 
verely.    "  I  shall  make  the  gown  fit  me." 

Ralph  was  about  to  say  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to  cut 
down  and  alter  that  picturesque  piece  of  old-fashioned 
attire  into  an  ordinary  garment,  and  that  it  would  be 
well  to  keep  it  as  a  family  relic,  or  to  give  it  away  to 
some  one  who  could  wear  it  as  it  was,  but  Miriam's 
manner  assured  him  that  she  was  extremely  sensitive  on 
the  subject  of  this  gown,  and  he  considered  it  wise  to 
offer  no  further  opinion  about  it.  So  he  went  about  his 
affairs,  and  Miriam,  having  resumed  her  ordinary  dress, 
went  out  with  her  cook-book  to  a  bench  under  a  tree  on 


THE  TBABBRRY  GOWN  IS  TOO  LARGE         179 

the  lawn.  She  never  stayed  in  the  house  when  it  was 
possible  to  be  out  of  doors. 

"  I  wish  I  could  find  out,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  what 
Dora  Bannister  intended  to  make  for  Ralph  out  of  rasp- 
berries. Whatever  it  is,  I  know  I  can  make  it  just  as 
well,  and  I  want  to  do  it  all  myself  before  the  new  cook 
comes.  It  could  not  have  been  jam,"  she  said,  as  she 
turned  over  the  leaves ;  "  for  Ralph  does  not  care  much 
for  jam,  and  he  would  not  have  told  her  he  liked  that. 
And  then  there  is  jelly ;  but  it  must  take  a  long  time  to 
make  jelly,  and  I  do  not  believe  she  would  undertake  to 
give  him  that  for  dinner,  made  from  raspberries  picked 
this  morning.  Besides,  I  cannot  imagine  Ralph  saying 
he  wanted  jelly  for  his  dinner.  Well,  well!"  she  ex- 
claimed aloud,  as  she  stopped  to  read  a  recipe,  "they 
do  make  tarts  out  of  raspberries !  That  must  have  been 
it,  for  Ralph  is  desperately  fond  of  every  kind  of  pastry. 
I  will  go  into  the  house  this  minute,  and  make  him 
some  raspberry  tarts.  We  shall  have  them  for  supper, 
even  if  they  give  him  the  nightmare.  I  am  not  going  to 
have  him  say  again  that  he  wished  the  new  cook,  as  he 
kept  calling  Dora  Bannister,  had  stayed  a  little  longer." 

Alas!  at  dinner  time  Ralph  had  been  guilty  of  that 
indiscretion.  Without  exactly  knowing  it,  he  had 
missed  in  the  meal  a  certain  very  pleasant  element, 
which  had  been  put  into  the  supper  and  breakfast  by 
Dora's  desire  to  gratify  his  especial  tastes.  While  he 
missed  their  visitor  in  many  other  ways,  he  alluded  to 
her  premature  departure  only  in  connection  with  their 
domestic  affairs. 


180  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

But  so  far  as  Miriam  was  concerned,  he  could  have 
done  nothing  worse  than  this.  To  have  heard  her 
brother  say  that  Dora  Bannister  was  the  most  lovely- 
girl  he  had  ever  seen,  and  that  he  was  filled  with  grief 
at  losing  the  delights  of  her  society,  might  have  been 
disagreeable  to  her,  or  it  might  not.  But  to  have  him 
even  in  the  lightest  way  intimate  that  her  housekeeping 
was  preferable  to  that  of  his  own  sister  nettled  her 
self-esteem. 

"  I  will  show  him,"  she  said,  "  that  he  is  mistaken." 

In  the  pleasant  coolness  of  the  great  barn,  Ralph 
stretched  himself  on  a  pile  of  new-made  hay  to  think. 
He  was  a  farmer,  and  he  intended  to  try  to  be  a  good 
farmer,  and  he  knew  that  good  farmers,  during  working 
hours,  do  not  lie  down  on  piles  of  hay  to  think.  But 
notwithstanding  that,  in  this  hay-scented  solitude,  look- 
ing out  of  the  great  door  upon  the  quiet  landscape  with 
the  white  clouds  floating  over  it,  he  thought  of  Dora. 
He  had  been  thinking  of  her  in  all  sorts  of  irregular 
and  disjointed  ways  ever  since  he  had  risen  in  the 
morning;  but  now  he  wished  to  think  definitely,  and 
lay  down  here  for  that  purpose.  One  cannot  think 
definitely  and  single-mindedly  when  engaged  in  farm 
work,  especially  if  he  sometimes  finds  himself  a  little 
awkward  at  said  work  and  is  bothered  by  it. 

Whenever  he  could  do  it,  Ralph  Haverley  liked  to 
get  things  clear  and  straightforward  in  his  mind.  He 
had  applied  this  rule  to  all  matters  of  his  former  busi- 
ness, and  he  now  applied  it  to  the  affairs  of  his  present 
estate.    But  how  much  more  important  was  it  to  ap- 


THE  TEABBRRY  GOWN  IS  TOO  LARGE    181 

ply  the  rules  to  Dora  Bannister!  Nothing  had  ever 
put  his  mind  into  a  condition  less  clear  and  straight- 
forward than  the  visit  of  that  young  lady.  The  main 
point  to  be  decided  upon  was :  what  should  he  do  about 
seeing  her  again?  He  was  filled  by  an  all-pervading 
desire  to  do  that;  but  how  should  he  set  about  it? 
The  simplest  plan  would  be  to  go  and  see  her;  but  if 
he  did  so,  he  knew  he  ought  to  take  his  sister  with  him, 
and  he  had  no  reason  to  believe  that  Miriam  would  be 
in  any  hurry  to  return  Miss  ]&annister's  visit.  If  he 
had  been  acquainted  with  the  brother,  the  case  would 
have  been  different,  but  that  gentleman  had  not  yet 
called  upon  him. 

Having  thought  some  time  on  this  subject,  Ralph  sat 
upright,  and  rearranged  his  reflections. 

"Why  is  it,"  he  said  to  himself,  "that  I  am  so 
anxious  to  see  her  again,  and  to  see  her  as  soon  as 
possible  ?  " 

To  the  solution  of  this  question,  Ralph  applied  the 
full  force  of  his  intellectual  powers.  The  conclusion 
that  came  to  him  after  about  six  seconds  of  delibera- 
tion was  not  well  defined,  but  it  indicated  that  if  almost 
any  young  man  had  had  in  his  house  —  actually  living 
with  him  and  taking  part  in  his  household  affairs  —  an 
unusually  handsome  young  woman,  who,  not  only  by  her 
appearance,  but  by  her  gentle  and  thoughtful  desire  to 
adapt  herself  to  the  tastes  and  circumstances  of  himself 
and  his  sister,  seemed  to  belong  in  the  place  into  which 
she  had  so  suddenly  dropped,  that  young  man  would 
naturally  want  to  see  that  young  woman  just  as  soon 


182  THE  GIRL   AT  COBHURST 

as  he  could.  This  would  be  so  in  any  similar  case,  and 
there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  find  out  why  it  was  so  in 
this  case. 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  and  at  that  moment  he  heard 
Miriam  calling  to  him. 

"Ralph,'^  she  said,  running  into  the  barn,  "I  have 
been  looking  all  over  for  you.  The  new  woman  cannot 
come  to-day." 

"I  do  not  see  why  you  should  appear  so  delighted 
about  it,"  said  Ralph ;  "  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it." 

"And  I  am  not,"  replied  Miriam.  "There  are  some 
things  I  want  to  do  before  she  comes,  and  I  am  very 
glad  to  have  the  chance.  Mike  brought  back  word  from 
her  that  if  you  send  the  wagon  in  the  cool  of  the  morn- 
ing, she  will  come  over  with  her  trunk." 

"  You  are  a  funny  girl,"  said  Ralph,  "  to  be  actually 
pleased  at  the  prospect  of  cooking  and  doing  housework 
a  little  longer."  And  as  he  said  that,  he  congratulated 
himself  that  his  sister  had  not  had  the  chance  of  think- 
ing him  a  funny  fellow  for  lying  stretched  on  the  hay 
when  he  ought  to  have  been  at  work. 

Miriam  was  now  in  good  spirits  again.  She  walked 
to  the  great  open  window,  and,  leaning  on  the  bar, 
looked  out. 

"What  a  lovely  air,"  she  said,  and  then  she  turned 
to  her  brother.  "It  is  nice  to  have  visitors,  and  to 
have  plenty  of  people  to  do  your  work,  but  it  is  a  hun- 
dred times  jollier  for  just  us  two  to  be  here  by  our- 
selves. Don't  you  think  so,  Ralph  ? "  And,  without 
waiting  for  her  brother's  answer,  she  went  on.     "You 


THE  TBABERRY  GOWN  IS  TOO  LARGE    183 

see,  we  can  do  whatever  we  please.  We  can  be  as  free 
as  anything  —  as  free  as  cats.  Here,  puss,  puss,"  she 
called  to  the  gray  barn  cat  in  the  yard  below.  ^^No, 
she  will  not  even  look  at  me.  Cats  are  the  freest  creat- 
ures in  the  world;  they  will  not  come  to  you  if  they 
do  not  want  to.  If  you  call  your  dog,  he  feels  that  he 
has  to  come  to  you.  Ealph,  do  you  know  I  think  it  is 
the  most  absurd  thing  in  the  world  that  in  a  place  like 
this  we  should  have  no  dog." 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  somebody  to  give  me  one," 
said  Ealph,  taking  up  a  pitchfork  and  preparing  to 
throw  some  hay  into  the  stable  below. 

"That  will  be  the  nicest  way  of  getting  one,"  said 
Miriam,  as  she  came  and  stood  by  him,  and  watched  him 
thrust  the  hay  into  the  yawning  hole.  "We  do  not 
want  a  dog  that  people  are  willing  to  sell.  We  want  one 
that  is  the  friend  of  the  family,  and  which  the  owners 
are  obliged  to  part  with  because  they  are  going  to 
Europe,  or  something  of  that  sort.  Such  a  dog  we 
should  prize.     Don't  you  think  so,  Ealph?" 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  and  went  on  taking  up  f  orkloads  of 
hay  and  thrusting  them  into  the  hole.  He  was  wonder- 
ing if  this  were  a  good  time  to  tell  Miriam  that  that  very 
morning  Dora  Bannister  had  been  talking  about  there 
being  no  dog  at  Cobhurst,  and  had  asked  him  if  he 
would  like  to  have  one ;  for  if  he  would,  she  had  a  very 
handsome  black  setter,  which  had  been  given  to  her 
when  it  was  a  little  puppy,  and  of  which  she  was  very 
fond,  but  which  had  now  grown  too  big  and  lively  to  be 
cooped  up  in  the  yard  of  their  house.    He  had  said  that 


184  THE  GIEL  AT  COBHURST 

he  would  be  charmed  to  have  the  dog,  and  had  intended 
to  tell  Miriam  about  it,  but  now  a  most  excellent  oppor- 
tunity had  come  to  do  so,  he  hesitated.  Miriam's  soul 
did  not  seem  to  incline  toward  their  late  visitor,  and  per- 
haps she  might  not  care  for  a  gift  from  her.  It  might 
be  better  to  wait  awhile.  Then  there  came  a  happy 
thought  to  Ealph ;  here  was  a  good  reason  for  going  to 
see  Dora.  It  would  be  no  more  than  polite  to  take  an 
interest  in  the  animal  which  had  been  offered  him,  and 
even  if  he  did  not  immediately  bring  it  to  Cobhurst,  he 
could  go  and  look  at  it.  Miriam  now  returned  to  the 
house,  leaving  her  brother  pondering  over  the  question 
whether  or  not  the  next  morning  would  be  too  soon  to  go 
and  look  at  the  dog. 

The  sun  had  set,  and  Ralph,  having  finished  his  day's 
work,  and  having  helped  his  sister  as  much  as  she  and 
Mike  would  let  him,  sat  on  the  piazza,  gazing  between 
the  tall  pillars  upon  the  evening  landscape,  and  still  try- 
ing to  decide  whether  or  not  it  would  be  out  of  the  way 
to  go  the  next  morning  to  Dora  Bannister.  The  evening 
light  grew  less  and  less,  and  Ralph's  healthy  instincts 
drew  his  mind  from  thoughts  of  Dora  to  thoughts  of 
supper.  It  certainly  was  very  late  for  the  evening  meal, 
but  he  would  not  worry  Miriam  with  any  signs  of  im- 
patience. That  would  be  unkind  indeed,  when  she  was 
slaving  away  in  the  kitchen,  while  he  sat  here  enjoying 
the  evening  coolness. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  heard  his  sister's  step  in  the  hall, 
and  then  a  sob.  He  had  scarcely  time  to  turn,  when 
Miriam  ran  out,  and  threw  herself  down  on  the  wide 


THE  TEABERRY  GOWN  IS  TOO  LARGE    185 

seat  beside  him.  Her  face,  as  he  could  see  it  in  the  dim 
light,  was  one  of  despair,  and  as  sob  after  sob  broke  from 
her,  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks.  Tenderly  he  put  his 
arm  around  her  and  urged  her  to  tell  him  what  had 
happened. 

"  Oh,  Ralph,"  she  sobbed,  "  it  is  very  hard,  but  I  know- 
it  is  true.  I  have  been  just  filled  with  vanity  and  pride, 
and  after  all  I  am  nothing  like  as  good  as  she  is,  nor  as 
good  as  anybody,  and  the  best  I  can  do  is  to  go  back 
to  school." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  exclaimed  Ralph.  "  You  poor 
little  thing,  how  came  you  to  be  so  troubled  ?  " 

Miriam  gave  a  long  sigh  and  dropped  her  head  on  her 
brother's  shoulder. 

"  Oh,  Ralph,"  she  said,  "  they  are  six  inches  high." 

"  What  are  ?  "  cried  Ralph,  in  great  amazement. 

"The  tarts,"  she  said;  "the  raspberry  tarts  I  was 
making  for  you,  because  you  like  them,  and  because 
Dora  Bannister  was  going  to  make  them  for  you,  and  I 
determined  that  I  could  do  it  just  as  well  as  she  could, 
and  that  I  would  do  it  and  that  you  would  not  have  to 
miss  her  for  anything.  But  it  is  of  no  use ;  I  cannot  do 
things  as  well  as  she  can,  and  those  tarts  are  not  like 
tarts  at  all ;  they  are  like  chimneys." 

"I  expect  they  are  very  good  indeed.  Now  do  not 
drop  another  tear,  and  let  us  go  in  and  eat  them." 

"  No,"  said  Miriam,  "  they  are  not  good.  I  know  what 
is  the  matter  with  them.  I  have  found  out  that  I  have 
no  more  idea  of  making  pie  crust  than  I  have  about  the 
nebulous  part  of  astronomy,  and  that  I  never  could  com? 


186  THE  GIEL  AT  COBHURST 

prehend.  I  wanted  to  make  tlie  lightest,  puffiest  pastry 
that  was  possible,  and  I  used  some  self-raising  flour,  the 
kind  that  has  the  yeast  ground  up  with  it,  and  when  I 
put  those  tarts  in  the  oven  to  bake,  they  just  rose  up, 
and  rose  up,  until  I  thought  they  would  reach  up  the 
chimney.     They  are  perfectly  horrid."  j 

Ealph  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  lifted  his  sister  from  her 
seat.  "Come  along,  little  one,"  he  cried,  "and  I  shall 
judge  for  myself  what  sort  of  a  pastry-cook  you  are." 

"  The  pigs  shall  judge  that,"  said  Miriam,  who  had 
now  dried  her  eyes,  "but  fortunately  there  are  other 
things  to  eat." 

The  tarts,  indeed,  were  wonderful  things  to  look  at,  re- 
sembling, as  Miriam  had  said,  a  plateful  of  little  chim- 
neys, with  a  sort  of  swallow's  nest  of  jam  at  the  top,  but 
Ralph  did  not  laugh  at  them. 

"Wait  until  their  turn  comes,"  said  Ralph,  "and  I 
will  give  my  opinion  about  them." 

When  he  had  finished  the  substantial  part  of  the  meal, 
he  drew  the  plate  of  tarts  toward  him. 

"  I  will  show  you  how  to  eat  the  Cobhurst  tart.  You 
cut  it  down  from  top  to  bottom :  then  you  lay  the  two 
sections  on  their  rounded  sides :  then  you  get  a  lot  more 
of  jam,  which  I  see  you  have  on  the  side  table,  and  you 
spread  the  cut  surfaces  with  it:  then  you  put  it  to- 
gether as  it  was  before,  and  slice  it  along  its  shorter  di- 
ameter.    Good  ?  "  said  he ;  "  they  are  delicious." 

Miriam  took  a  piece.  "  It  is  good  enough,"  she  said, 
"  but  it  is  not  a  tart.  If  Dora  Bannister  had  made  them, 
they  would  have  been  real  tarts." 


THE  DRANBS  AND  THEIR  QUARTERS     187 

"It  is  very  well  I  said  notMng  about  the  dog,"  thought 
Ealph ;  and  then  he  said  aloud,  "  It  is  not  Dora  Bannister 
that  we  have  to  consider ;  it  is  Molly  Tooney.  She  is  to 
save  you  from  the  tears  and  perplexities  of  flour  and 
yeast,  and  to  make  you  the  happy  little  lady  of  the  house 
that  you  were  before  the  wicked  Phoebe  went  away. 
But  one  thing  I  insist  upon :  I  want  the  rest  of  those 
tarts  for  my  breakfast." 

Miriam  looked  at  her  brother  with  a  smile  that  showed 
her  storm  was  over. 

"  You  are  eating  those  things,  dear  Ealph,"  she  said, 
"because  I  made  them,  and  that  is  the  only  good  thing 
about  them." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   DRANES    AND    THEIR   QUARTERS 

In  a  small  room  at  the  back  of  Dr.  Tolbridge's  house 
there  sat  a  young  woman  by  the  window,  writing.  This 
was  Cicely  Drane ;  and  although  it  was  not  yet  ten  days 
since  Miss  Panney  broached  her  plan  of  the  employment 
of  Miss  Drane  as  the  doctor's  secretary,  or  rather  copyist, 
here  she  was,  hard  at  work,  and  she  had  been  for  two 
days. 

The  window  opened  upon  the  garden,  and  in  the  beds 
were  a  great  many  bright  and  interesting  flowers,  but 
paying  no  heed  to  these.  Cicely  gave  her  whole  attention 
to  her  task,  which,  indeed,  was  not  an  easy  one.  With 
knitted  brows  she  bent  over  the  manuscript  of  the  "  Di- 


188  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUEST 

agnosis  of  Sympathy,"  and  having  deciphered  a  line  or 
two,  she  wrote  the  words  in  a  fair  hand  on  a  broad  sheet 
before  her.  Then  she  returned  to  the  study  of  the  doc- 
tor's caligraphy,  and  copied  a  little  more  of  it,  but  the 
proportion  of  the  time  she  gave  to  the  deciphering  of  the 
original  manuscript  to  that  occupied  in  writing  the  words 
in  her  own  hand  was  about  as  ten  is  to  one.  An  hour 
had  elapsed  since  she  had  begun  to  write  on  the  page, 
which  she  had  not  yet  filled. 

Miss  Cicely  Drane  was  a  small  person,  nearing  her 
twenty-second  year.  She  had  handsome  gray  eyes,  taste- 
fully arranged  brown  hair,  and  a  vivacious  and  pleasing 
face.  Her  hands  were  small,  her  feet  were  small,  and 
she  did  not  look  as  if  she  weighed  a  hundred  pounds, 
although,  in  fact,  her  weight  was  considerably  more 
than  that.  Her  dress  was  a  simple  one,  on  which  a 
great  deal  of  thought  had  been  employed  to  make  it 
becoming. 

For  a  longer  time  than  usual  she  now  bent  over  the 
doctor's  manuscript,  endeavoring  to  resolve  a  portion  of 
it  into  comprehensible  words.  Then  she  held  up  the 
page  to  the  light,  replaced  it  on  the  table,  stood  up  and 
looked  at  it,  and  finally  sat  down  again,  her  elbows  on 
the  paper,  and  her  tapering  fingers  in  the  little  brown 
curls  at  the  sides  of  her  head.  Presently  she  raised  her 
head,  with  a  sigh.  "  It  is  of  no  use,"  she  said.  "  I  must 
go  and  ask  him  what  this  means;  that  is,  if  he  is  at 
home." 

With  the  page  in  her  hand,  she  went  to  the  office  door, 
and  knocked. 


THE  DEANES  AND  THEIR  QITARTEES  189 

"  Come  in,"  said  Dr.  Tolbridge. 

Miss  Drane  entered ;  the  doctor  was  alone,  but  lie  had 
his  hat  in  his  hand  and  was  just  going  out. 

"I  am  glad  I  caught  you,"  said  she,  "for  there  is  a 
part  of  this  page  in  which  I  can  see  no  meaning." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  the  doctor.     "  Eead  it." 

Slowly  and  distinctly  she  read :  — 

" '  The  cropsticks  of  flamingo  bicrastus  quack.' " 

The  doctor  frowned,  laid  his  hat  on  the  table,  and 
seating  himself  took  the  paper  from  Cicely  Drane. 

"  This  is  strange,"  said  he.  "  It  does  seem  to  be  *  crop- 
sticks  of  flamingo,'  but  what  can  };hat  mean  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  came  to  ask  you,"  said  she.  "  I  have 
been  puzzling  over  it  a  good  while,  and  I  supposed,  of 
course,  you  would  know  what  it  is." 

"But  I  do  not,"  said  the  doctor.  "It  is  often  very 
hard  for  me  to  read  my  own  writing,  and  this  was 
written  two  years  ago.  You  can  leave  this  sheet  with 
me,  and  this  evening  I  will  look  over  it  and  try  to  make 
something  out  of  it." 

Cicely  Drane  was  methodical  in  her  ways ;  she  could 
not  properly  go  on  with  the  rest  of  her  work  without 
this  page,  and  so  she  told  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  any  more  work  for  to-day,"  said  he. 
"  It  is  after  four  o'clock  now,  and  you  ought  to  go  out 
and  get  a  little  of  this  pleasant  sunshine.  By  the  way, 
how  do  you  like  this  new  business  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  it  very  well,"  said  Cicely,  as  she  stood 
by  the  table,  "  if  I  could  get  on  faster  with  it,  but  I  work 
so  very,  very  slowly.    I  made  a  calculation  this  morning, 


190  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

that  if  I  work  at  the  same  rate  that  I  have  been  working 
since  I  came  here,  it  will  take  me  thirteen  years  and 
eleven  months  to  copy  your  manuscript." 

The  doctor  laughed.  "If  a  child  should  walk  to 
school,"  he  said,  "at  the  same  rate  of  speed  that  he 
takes  his  first  toddling  step  on  the  nursery  floor,  it 
might  take  him  about  thirteen  years  to  get  there.  That 
is,  if  his  school  were  at  the  average  distance.  You  will 
get  on  fast  enough  when  you  become  acquainted  with  my 
writing." 

She  was  on  the  point  of  saying  that  surely  he  had  had 
time  to  get  acquainted  with  it,  and  yet  he  could  not  read 
it ;  but  she  considered  that  she  did  not  yet  know  the  doc- 
tor well  enough  for  that. 

The  doctor  rose  and  took  up  his  hat ;  then  he  suddenly 
turned  toward  Miss  Drane  and  said,  "  La  Fleur,  our  cook, 
came  to  speak  to  me  this  morning  about  your  mother. 
She  says  she  thinks  that  you  are  not  well  lodged ;  that 
the  street  is  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  town,  and  that 
Mrs.  Drane's  health  will  suffer  if  you  stay  there.  Does 
your  mother  object  to  your  present  quarters  ?" 

Cicely,  who  had  been  half  way  to  the  door,  now  came 
back  and  stood  by  the  table. 

"  Mother  never  objects  to  anything,"  she  said.  "  She 
thinks  our  rooms  are  very  neat  and  comfortable,  and  that 
Mrs.  Brinkly  is  a  kind  landlady,  but  she  has  complained  a 
great  deal  of  the  heat.    You  know  our  house  was  very  airy." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  the  doctor,  "that  Mrs.  Brinkly's 
house  is  not  likely  to  prove  pleasant.  It  is  in  a  closely 
built  portion  of  the  town,  but  it  seemed  the  only  place 


THE  DRANBS  AND  THEIR  QUARTERS     191 

where  we  could  find  suitable  accommodations  for  your 
mother  and  you." 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  nice  place/'  exclaimed  Cicely,  "  and  I  am 
sure  we  shall  like  it,  except  in  hot  weather,  such  as  we 
are  having  now.  I  have  no  doubt  we  shall  get  used  to  it 
after  a  little  while." 

^^  La  Fleur  does  not  think  so,"  said  the  doctor.  "  She 
is  very  much  dissatisfied  with  the  Brinkly  establishment. 
I  think  I  saw  signs  of  mental  disturbance  in  our  lunch- 
eon to-day." 

Cicely  laughed.  She  was  a  girl  who  was  pleasant  to 
look  at  when  she  laughed,  for  her  features  accommodated 
themselves  so  naturally  to  mirthful  expression. 

"  It  is  almost  funny,"  she  said,  "  to  see  how  fond  La 
Fleur  is  of  mother.  She  lived  with  us  less  than  a  year, 
and  yet  one  might  suppose  she  had  always  been  a  ser- 
vant of  the  family.  I  think  one  reason  for  her  feeling  is, 
that  mother  never  does  anything.  You  know  she  has 
never  been  used  to  do  anything,  and  of  late  years  she 
has  not  been  well  enough.  La  Fleur  likes  all  that ;  she 
thinks  it  is  a  mark  of  high  degree.  She  told  me  once 
that  my  mother  was  a  lady  who  was  born  to  be  served, 
and  who  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  serve  herself." 

"She  does  not  seem  to  object  to  your  working,"  re- 
marked the  doctor. 

"  I  am  sure  she  does  not  like  that,  but  then  she  con- 
siders it  a  thing  that  cannot  be  helped.  You  know," 
continued  Cicely,  with  a  smile,  "  she  is  not  so  particular 
about  me,  for  I  have  some  trade  blood.  Father's  father 
was  a  merchant." 


192  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  So  you  are  only  a  grade  aristocrat,"  said  the  doctor ; 
"but  I  must  go.  I  will  talk  to  Mrs.  Tolbridge  about 
this  affair  of  lodgings." 

That  evening  Mrs.  Tolbridge  and  the  doctor  held  a 
conference  in  regard  to  the  quarters  of  the  Dranes. 

"  I  think  La  Fleur  concerns  herself  entirely  too  much 
in  the  matter,"  said  the  lady.  "  She  first  came  to  me, 
and  then  she  went  to  you.  You  have  done  a  good  deal 
for  Mrs.  Drane  in  giving  her  daughter  employment,  and 
we  cannot  be  expected  to  attend  to  her  every  need.  I  do 
not  consider  Mrs.  Brinkly's  house  a  very  pleasant  one  in 
hot  weather,  and  I  would  be  glad  to  do  anything  I  could 
to  establish  them  more  pleasantly,  but  I  know  of  nothing 
to  do,  at  least  at  present ;  and  then  you  say  they  have 
not  complained.  From  what  I  have  seen  of  Mrs.  Drane, 
I  think  she  is  a  very  sensible  woman,  and  under  the 
circumstances  probably  expects  some  discomforts." 

"  But  that  is  not  all  that  is  to  be  considered,"  said  her 
husband.  "La  Fleur's  dissatisfaction,  which  is  very 
evident,  must  be  taken  into  the  question.  She  has  a 
scheming  mind.  Before  she  left  this  morning  she  asked 
me  if  I  thought  a  little  house  could  be  gotten  outside  the 
town,  for  a  moderate  rent.  I  believe  she  would  not  hesi- 
tate to  take  such  a  house,  and  board  and  lodge  the 
Dranes  herself." 

"  Doctor  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "  whatever  hap- 
pens, I  hope  we  are  not  going  to  be  the  slaves  of  a  cook." 

The  doctor  laughed. 

"Whatever  happens,"  he  said,  "we  are  always  that. 
All  we  can  do  is  to  try  and  be  the  slaves  of  a  good  one." 


THE  DRANES  AND  THEIR  QUARTERS     193 

"  I  am  not  altogether  sure  that  that  is  the  right  way 
to  look  at  it,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge ;  and  then  she  went  on 
with  her  sewing,  not  caring  to  expatiate  on  the  subject. 
Her  husband  appreciated  only  the  advantages  of  La  Fleur, 
but  she  knew  something  of  her  disadvantages.  The  work 
on  which  she  was  engaged  at  that  moment  would  have 
been  done  by  the  maid,  had  not  that  young  woman's  ser- 
vices been  so  frequently  required  of  late  by  the  autocrat 
of  the  kitchen. 

The  doctor  sat  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  He  had  a 
kindly  feeling  for  Mrs.  Drane,  and  was  willing  to  do  all 
he  could  for  her,  but  his  thoughts  were  now  principally 
occupied  with  plans  for  the  continuance  of  good  living  in 
his  own  home. 

"  I  suppose  it  would  not  be  practicable,"  he  said  pres- 
ently, "  to  invite  them  to  stay  with  us  during  the  heated 
term." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  dropped  her  work  into  her  lap. 

"  That  is  not  to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment,"  she  said. 
"  We  have  no  room  for  them,  unless  we  give  up  having  any 
more  friends  this  summer ;  and  besides  that,  you  would 
see  La  Fleur,  with  the  other  servants  at  her  heels,  devot- 
ing herself  to  the  gratification  of  every  want  and  notion 
of  Mrs.  Drane,  and  thinking  no  more  of  me  than  if  I 
were  a  chair  in  a  corner." 

"  We  shall  not  have  that,"  said  the  doctor,  rising,  and 
placing  his  hand  on  his  wife's  head.  "  You  may  be  sure 
we  shall  not  have  that.  And  now  I  will  go  and  get  a 
bit  of  my  handwriting,  and  see  if  you  can  help  me  de- 
cipher it." 
o 


194  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

He  left  the  room,  but  in  an  instant  returned. 

"  A  happy  thought  has  just  struck  me !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  wonder  if  those  young  Haverley  people  would  take 
Mrs.  Drane  into  their  house  for  the  rest  of  the  summer  ? 
It  would  be  an  excellent  thing  for  them,  for  their  house- 
hold needs  the  presence  of  an  elderly  person,  and  I  am 
sure  that  no  one  could  be  quieter,  or  more  pleasant,  and 
less  troublesome,  than  Mrs.  Drane  would  be.  What  do 
you  think  of  that  idea  ?  " 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  looked  up  approvingly. 

"  It  is  not  a  bad  one,"  she  said ;  "  but  what  would  the 
daughter  do  ?  She  could  not  come  into  town  every  day 
to  do  your  work.  It  is  too  long  a  walk  for  her,  and  she 
could  not  afford  a  conveyance." 

^'  No,"  said  the  doctor,  "  of  course  she  could  not  go 
back  and  forwards  every  day,  but  it  would  not  be  neces- 
sary. She  could  take  the  work  out  there  and  do  it  as 
well  as  here,  and  she  could  come  in  now  and  then,  when 
a  chance  offered,  and  ask  me  about  the  hard  words,  for 
which  she  could  leave  blanks.  Or,  if  I  happen  to  be  in 
the  neighborhood,  I  could  stop  in  there  and  see  how  she 
was  getting  on.  I  would  much  rather  arrange  the  busi- 
ness in  that  way,  than  have  her  pop  into  my  office  at  any 
moment  to  ask  me  about  my  illegible  words." 

"  I  should  think  the  work  could  be  done  just  as  well 
out  of  the  house  as  in  it,"  said  the  doctor's  wife,  who 
would  be  willing  to  have  again  the  use  of  the  little  room 
that  she  had  cheerfully  given  up  to  the  copyist  of  her 
husband's  book,  which  she,  quite  as  earnestly  as  Miss 
Panney,  desired  to  be  given  to  the  world. 


THE  DRANES  AND  THEIR  QUARTERS     195 

"The  first  thing  to  do,"  said  she,  "is  to  make  them 
acquainted.  At  first  the  Haverleys  would  not  be  likely 
to  favor  the  plan.  They  no  doubt  consider  themselves 
sufficient  company  for  each  other,  and  although  a  slight 
addition  to  their  income  would  probably  be  of  advan- 
tage, I  think  they  are  too  young  and  unpractical  to  care 
much  about  that." 

"How  would  it  do  to  have  the  Dranes  and  the  Haver- 
leys here,  and  give  them  a  first-class  La  Fleur  dinner  ?  " 
asked  the  doctor. 

"  I  do  not  like  that,"  said  his  wife.  "  The  intention  would 
be  too  obvious.    The  thing  should  be  done  more  naturally." 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  wish  we  had  Miss  Panney 
here.  She  has  a  great  capacity  for  rearranging  and 
simplifying  the  circumstances  of  a  complicated  case." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  made  no  answer,  but  very  intently 
examined  her  sewing. 

"  But  if  we  can  think  of  no  deeply  ingenious  plan," 
continued  the  doctor,  "  we  will  go  about  it  in  a  straight- 
forward way.  I  will  see  Ralph  Haverley,  and  if  I  can 
win  him  over  to  the  idea  I  will  let  him  talk  to  his  sister. 
He  can  do  it  better  than  we  can.  If  they  utterly  reject 
the  whole  scheme,  we  will  wait  a  week  or  so,  and  pro- 
pose it  again,  just  as  if  we  had  never  done  it  before.  I 
have  found  this  plan  work  very  well  with  persons  who, 
on  account  of  youth,  or  some  other  reason,  are  given  to 
resentment  of  suggestions  and  to  quick  decisions.  When 
a  rejected  proposition  is  laid  before  them  a  second  time, 
the  disposition  to  resent  has  lost  its  force,  and  they  are 
as  likely  to  accept  it  as  not" 


196  THE  GIRL  AT  COSfllTRST 

"You  are  right,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "for  I  have 
tried  that  plan  with  you." 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  and  laughed. 

"  It  is  astonishing/'  he  exclaimed,  "what  coincidences  we 
meet  with  in  this  world/'  and  with  that  he  left  the  room. 

As  soon  as  her  husband  had  gone,  Mrs.  Tolbridge 
leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  laughed  quietly. 

"  To  think  of  asking  Miss  Panney  to  aid  in  a  plan  like 
that ! "  she  said  to  herself.  "  Why,  when  the  old  lady 
hears  of  it  she  will  blaze  like  fury.  To  send  that  pretty 
Cicely  to  live  in  the  house  for  which  she  herself  has 
selected  a  mistress,  will  seem  to  her  like  high  treason. 
But  the  arrangement  suits  me  perfectly,  and  I  can  only 
hopei:hat  Miss  Panney  may  not  hear  of  it  until  every- 
thing is  settled." 

The  more  Dr.  Tolbridge  thought  of  the  plan  to  estab- 
lish Mrs.  and  Miss  Drane,  for  a  time,  at  Cobhurst,  the 
better  he  liked  it.  Not  only  did  he  think  the  arrange- 
ment would  be  a  desirable  one  on  the  Drane  side,  but 
also  on  the  Haverley  side.  From  the  first,  he  had  taken 
a  lively  interest  in  Miriam,  and  he  considered  that  her 
life  of  responsibility  and  independence  in  that  lonely 
household  was  as  likely  to  warp  her  mind  in  some  direc- 
tions as  it  was  to  expand  it  in  others.  Suitable  compan- 
ionship would  be  a  great  advantage  to  her  in  this  regard, 
and  he  fancied  that  Cicely  Drane  would  be  as  congenial 
and  helpful  a  chum,  and  Mrs.  Drane  as  unobjectionable  a 
matronly  adviser,  as  could  be  found.  If  the  plan  suited 
all  concerned,  it  might  perhaps  be  continued  beyond  the 
summer.    He  would  see  Ealph  as  soon  as  possible. 


A  TRESPASS  197 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A   TRESPASS 

Having  received  permission  to  stop  work  at  four 
o'clock  on  a  beautiful  summer  afternoon,  Cicely  Drane 
put  away  her  papers  and  walked  rapidly  home.  She 
found  her  mother  on  Mrs.  Brinkly's  front  piazza,  fan- 
ning herself  vigorously  and  watching  some  children, 
who,  on  the  other  side  of  the  narrow  street,  were  feed- 
ing a  tethered  goat  with  clippings  from  a  newspaper. 

After  a  few  words  to  explain  her  early  return,  Cicely 
went  up  to  her  own  room,  and  took  from  a  drawer  a 
little  pocketbook,  and  opening  it,  examined  the  money 
contained  therein.  Apparently  satisfied  with  the  result, 
she  went  downstairs,  wallet  in  hand. 

"  Mother,"  said  she,  "  you  must  find  it  dreadfully  hot 
and  stupid  here,  and  as  this  is  a  bit  of  a  holiday,  I 
intend  we  shall  take  a  drive." 

Mrs.  Drane  was  about  to  offer  some  sort  of  economic 
objection,  but  before  she  could  do  so,  Cicely  was  out  of 
the  little  front  yard,  and  hurrying  toward  the  station, 
where  there  were  always  vehicles  to  be  hired. 

She  engaged  the  man  who  had  the  best-looking  horse, 
and  in  a  little  open  phaeton,  a  good  deal  the  worse  for 
wear,  she  returned  to  her  mother. 

Andy  Griffing,  the  driver,  was  a  grizzled  little  man 
with  twinkling  eyes  and  a  cheery  air  that  seemed  to  in- 
dicate that  an  afternoon  drive  was  ^s  much  a  novelty 


198  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

and  pleasure  to  him  as  it  could  possibly  be  to  any 
two  ladies ;  which  was  odd,  considering  that  for  the 
last  forty  years  Andy  had  been  almost  constantly  en- 
gaged in  taking  morning,  afternoon,  evening,  and  night 
drives. 

The  only  direction  given  him  by  Cicely  was  to  take 
them  along  the  prettiest  country  roads  that  he  knew  of, 
and  this  suited  him  well,  for  he  not  only  considered  him- 
self a  good  judge  of  scenery,  but  he  knew  which  roads 
were  easiest  for  his  horse. 

As  they  travelled  leisurely  along,  the  ladies  enjoying 
the  air,  the  fields,  the  sweet  summer  smells,  the  stretches 
of  woods,  the  blue  and  white  sky,  and  everything  that 
goes  to  make  a  perfect  summer  afternoon,  Andy  endeav- 
ored to  add  to  their  pleasure,  by  giving  them  informa- 
tion regarding  the  inhabitants  of  the  various  dwellings 
they  passed. 

"  That  whitish  house  back  there  among  the  trees," 
said  he,  <^with  the  green  blinds,  is  called  the  Witton 
place.  The  Wittons  themselves  are  nuthin'  out  o'  the 
common;  but  there's  an  old  lady  lives  there  with  'em, 
who  if  you  ever  meet,  you'll  know  agin,  if  you  see  her 
agin.  Her  name's  Panney,  —  Miss  Panney,  —  and  she's 
a  one-er.  What  she  don't  know  about  me,  I  don't  know, 
and  what  she  won't  know  about  you,  three  days  after  she 
gits  acquainted  with  you,  you  don't  know.  That's  the 
kind  of  a  person  Miss  Panney  is.  There's  a  lot  of  very 
nice  people,  some  rich  and  some  poor,  and  some  queer 
and  some  not  quite  so  queer,  that  lives  in  and  around 
Thorbury,  and  if  you  like  it  at  Mrs.  Brinkly's  and  con- 


A  TRESPASS  199 

elude  to  stay  there  any  length  of  time,  I  don't  doubt 
you'll  git  acquainted  with  a  good  many  of  'em ;  but  take 
my  word  for  it,  you'll  never  meet  anybody  who  can  go 
ahead  of  Miss  Panney  in  the  way  of  turnin'  up  unex- 
pected. I  once  had  a  sick  hoss,  who  couldn't  do  much 
more  than  stand  up,  but  I  had  to  drive  him  one  day, 
'cause  my  other  one  was  hired  out.  ^  Now,'  says  I,  as  I 
drew  out  the  stable,  *if  I  can  get  around  town  this 
mornin'  without  meetin'  Miss  Panney,  I  think  old  Bob 
can  do  my  work,  and  to-morrow  I'll  turn  him  out  to 
grass.'  And  as  I  went  around  the  first  corner,  there  was 
Miss  Panney  a  drivin'  her  roan  mare.  She  pulled  up 
when  she  seed  me,  and  she  calls  out,  ^  Andy,  what's  the 
matter  with  that  hoss  ? '  I  told  her  he  was  a  little 
under  the  weather,  but  I  had  to  use  him  that  day,  'cause 
my  other  hoss  was  out.  Then  she  got  straight  out  of 
that  phaeton  she  drives  in,  and  come  up  to  my  hoss, 
and  says  she,  *  Andy,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self to  make  a  hoss  work  when  he  is  in  a  condition  like 
that.„  Take  him  right  back  to  your  stable,  or  I'll  have 
you  up  before  a  justice.'  ^Now  look  here.  Miss  Pan- 
ney,' says  I,  ^  which  is  the  best,  for  a  hoss  to  jog  a  lit- 
tle round  town  when  he  ain't  feeling  quite  well,  or  for 
a  man  to  sit  idle  on  his  front  doorstep  and  see  his 
family  starve  ? '  *  Now,  Andy,'  says  she,  ^  is  that  the 
case  with  you  ? '  and  havin'  brought  up  the  pint  myself, 
I  was  obliged  to  say  that  it  was.  ^Very  good,  then,' 
said  she,  and  she  took  her  roan  mare  by  the  head  and 
led  it  up  to  the  curbstone.  ^  Now  then,'  said  she,  '  you 
can  take  your  hoss  out  of  the  cab  and  put  this  hoss  in, 


200  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

and  you  can  drive  her  till  your  hoss  gets  well,  and  durin' 
that  time  I'll  walk/ 

"  Well,  of  course  I  didn't  do  that,  and  I  took  my  hoss 
back  to  the  stable,  and  my  family  didn't  starve  nuther ; 
but  I  just  tell  you  this  to  show  you  what  sort  of  a  woman 
Miss  Panney  is." 

"I  should  think  she  was  a  very  estimable  person," 
said  Mrs.  Drane. 

"  Oh,  there's  nothin'  the  matter  with  her  estimation," 
said  Andy.  "  That's  level  enough.  I  only  told  you  that 
to  show  you  how  you  can  always  expect  her  to  turn  up 
unexpected." 

"Mrs.  Brinkly  spoke  of  Miss  Panney,"  said  Cicely; 
"  she  said  that  she  was  the  first  one  to  come  and  see  her 
about  rooms  for  us." 

"That  was  certainly  very  kind,"  said  Mrs.  Drane, 
"  considering  that  she  does  not  know  us  at  all,  except 
through  Dr.  Tolbridge.  I  remember  his  speaking  of 
her." 

"  That  place  over  there,"  said  Andy,  "  you  can  jest  see 
the  tops  of  the  chimneys,  that's  called  Cobhurst ;  that's 
where  old  Matthias  Butterwood  used  to  live.  It  was  an 
awful  big  house  for  one  man,  but  he  was  queer.  There's 
nobody  livin'  there  now  but  two  young  people,  sort  of 
temporary,  I  guess,  though  the  place  belongs  to  'em.  I 
don't  think  they  are  any  too  well  off.  They  don't  give  us 
hack-drivers  much  custom,  never  havin'  any  friends 
comin'  or  goin',  or  trunks  or  anything.  He's  got  no 
other  business,  they  say,  and  don't  know  no  more  about 
f^-rBoift'  thjgi  a  potato  ^o^^s  about  ^reachiA'.    There'si 


A  TRESPASS  201 

nothin'  on  the  place  that  amounts  to  anything  except  the 
barn.  There's  a  wonderful  barn  there,  that  old  Butter- 
wood  spent  nobody  knows  how  much  money  on,  and  he  a 
bachelor.  You  can't  see  the  barn  from  here,  but  I'll 
drive  you  where  you  can  get  a  good  look  at  it." 

In  a  few  minutes,  he  made  a  turn,  and  whipped  up  his 
horse  to  a  better  speed,  and  before  Mrs.  Drane  and  her 
daughter  could  comprehend  the  state  of  affairs,  they 
were  rolling  over  a  not  very  well  kept  private  road,  and 
approaching  the  front  of  a  house. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  driver  ? "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Drane,  leaning  forward  in  astonishment. 

Andy  turned  his  beaming  countenance  upon  her,  and 
flourished  his  whip. 

"  Oh,  I'm  just  goin'  to  drive  round  the  side  of  the 
house,"  he  said ;  "  at  the  back  there's  a  little  knoll  where 
we  can  stop,  and  you  can  see  the  whole  of  the  barn  with 
the  three  ways  of  gittin'  into  it,  one  for  each  story." 
At  that  moment  they  rolled  past  the  front  piazza  on 
which  were  Miriam  and  Ealph,  gazing  at  them  in  sur- 
prise. The  latter  had  risen  when  he  had  heard  the 
approaching  carriage,  supposing  they  were  to  have  visi- 
tors. But  as  the  vehicle  passed  the  door  he  looked  at 
his  sister  in  amazement. 

"  It  can't  be,"  said  he,  "  that  those  people  have  come 
to  visit  Mike  ?  " 

"  Or  Molly  Tooney  ?  "  said  Miriam. 

As  for  Mrs.  Drane  and  Cicely,  they  were  shocked. 
They  had  never  been  in  the  habit  of  driving  into  private 
grounds   for    the  sake  of  seeing  what  might  be  therQ 


202  THE  GIRL   AT  COBHURST 

to  see,  and  Mrs.  Drane  sharply  ordered  the  driver  to 
stop. 

"What  do  you  mean,"  said  she,  "by  bringing  us  in 
here  ?  " 

"Oh,  that's  nuthin',"  said  Andy,  with  a  genial  grin; 
"they  won't  mind  your  comin'  in  to  look  at  the  barn. 
I've  druv  lots .  of  people  in  here  to  look  at  that  barn, 
though,  to  be  sure,  not  since  these  young  people  has 
been  livin'  here,  but  they  won't  mind  it  an  eighth  of 
an  inch." 

"I  shall  get  out  and  apologize,"  said  Mrs.  Drane, 
"for  this  shameful  intrusion,  and  then  you  must  drive 
us  out  of  the  grounds  immediately.  We  do  not  wish 
to  stop  to  look  at  anything,"  and  with  this  she  stepped 
from  the  little  phaeton  and  walked  back  to  the  piazza. 

Stopping  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps,  she  saluted  the 
brother  and  sister,  whose  faces  showed  that  they  were 
in  need  of  some  sort  of  explanation  of  her  arrival  at 
their  domestic  threshold. 

In  a  few  words  she  explained  how  the  carriage  had 
happened  to  enter  the  grounds,  and  hoped  that  they 
would  consider  that  the  impropriety  was  due  entirely 
to  the  driver,  and  not  to  any  desire  on  their  part  to 
intrude  themselves  on  private  property  for  the  sake  of 
sight-seeing,  Ralph  and  Miriam  were  both  pleased  with 
the  words  and  manner  of  this  exceedingly  pleasant-look- 
ing lady. 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  not  consider  at  all  that  you  have 
intruded,"  said  Ralph.  "  If  there  is  anything  on  our  place 
that  you  would  care  to  look  at,  I  hope  that  you  will  do  so." 


A   TRESPASS  208 

"  It  was  only  the  barn,"  said  Mrs.  Drane,  with  a  smile. 
'^  The  man  told  us  it  was  a  peculiar  building,  but  I  sup- 
posed we  could  see  it  without  entering  your  place.  We 
will  trespass  no  longer.'' 

Ralph  went  down  the  steps,  and  Miriam  followed. 

"Oh,  you  are  perfectly  welcome  to  look  at  the  barn 
as  much  as  you  wish  to,"  he  said.  "In  fact,  we  are 
rather  proud  to  find  that  this  is  anything  of  a  show 
place.  If  the  other  lady  will  alight,  I  will  be  pleased 
to  have  you  walk  into  the  barn.  The  door  of  the  upper 
floor  is  open,  and  there  is  a  very  fine  view  from  the 
back." 

Mrs.  Drane  smiled. 

"You  are  very  good  indeed,"  she  said,  "to  treat  in- 
trusive strangers  with  such  kindness,  but  I  shall  be 
glad  to  have  you  know  that  we  are  not  mere  tourists. 
We  are,  at  present,  residents  of  Thorbury.  I  am  Mrs. 
Drane,  and  my  daughter  is  engaged  in  assisting  Dr. 
Tolbridge  in  some  literary  work." 

"  If  you  are  friends  of  Dr.  Tolbridge,"  said  Ralph, 
"you  are  more  than  welcome  to  see  whatever  tl^ere  is 
to  see  on  this  place.  The  doctor  is  one  of  our  best 
friends.  If  you  like,  I  will  show  you  the  barn,  and 
perhaps  my  sister  will  come  with  us." 

Miriam,  who  for  a  week  or  more  had  been  beset  by 
the  very  unusual  desire  that  she  would  like  to  see  some- 
body and  speak  to  somebody  who  did  not  live  at  Cob- 
hurst,  willingly  agreed  to  assist  in  escorting  the  stran- 
gers, and  Cicely  having  joined  the  group,  they  all 
walked  toward  the  barn. 


204  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

There  were  no  self-introductions,  Ealph  merely  acting 
as  cicerone,  and  Miriam  bringing  up  the  rear  in  the 
character  of  occasional  commentator.  Mrs.  Drane  had 
accepted  the  young  gentleman's  invitation  because  she 
felt  that  the  most  polite  thing  to  do  under  the  circum- 
stances was  to  gratify  his  courteous  desire  to  put  them 
at  their  ease,  and,  being  a  lover  of  fine  scenery,  she 
was  well  rewarded  by  the  view  from  the  great  window. 

The  pride  of  possession  began  to  glow  a  little  within 
Kalph  as  he  pointed  out  the  features  of  this  castle-like 
barn.  Mrs.  Drane  agreed  to  his  proposition  to  descend 
to  the  second  floor.  But  as  these  two  were  going  down 
the  broad  stairway.  Cicely  drew  back,  and  suddenly 
turning,  addressed  Miriam. 

"  I  have  been  wanting  to  ask  a  great  many  questions," 
she  said,  "but  I  have  felt  ashamed  to  do  it.  I  have 
nearly  always  lived  in  the  country,  but  I  know  hardly 
anything  about  barns  and  cows  and  stables  and  hay 
and  all  that.  Do  the  hens  lay  their  eggs  up  there  in 
your  hay  ?  " 

Miriam  smiled  gravely. 

"  It  is  very  hard  to  find  out,"  she  said,  "  where  they  do 
lay  their  eggs.  Some  days  we  do  not  get  any  at  all, 
though  I  suppose  they  lay  them,  just  the  same.  There 
is  a  henhouse,  but  they  never  go  in  there." 

Cicely  moved  toward  the  stairway,  and  then  she 
stopped;  she  cast  her  eyes  toward  the  mass  of  hay  in 
the  mow  above,  and  then  she  gave  a  little  sigh.  Miriam 
looked  at  her  and  understood  her  perfectly,  moreover 
she  pitied  her. 


A  TRESPASS  205 

"  How  is  it,"  said  she  as  tliey  went  down  the  stairs, 
"that  you  lived  in  the  country,  and  do  not  know  about 
country  things  ?  " 

"  We  lived  in  suburbs,"  she  said.  "  I  think  suburbs 
are  horrible ;  they  are  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other. 
We  had  a  lawn  and  shade  trees,  and  a  croquet  ground, 
and  a  tennis  court,  but  we  bought  our  milk  and  eggs  and 
most  of  our  vegetables.  There  isn't  any  real  country  in 
all  that,  you  know.  I  was  never  in  a  haymow  in  my 
life.    All  I  know  about  that  sort  of  thing  is  from  books." 

When,  with  many  thanks  for  the  courtesies  offered 
them,  Mrs.  Drane  and  her  daughter  had  driven  away, 
Miriam  sat  by  herself  on  the  piazza  and  thought.  She 
had  a  good  deal  of  time,  now,  to  think,  for  Molly  Tooney 
was  a  far  more  efficient  servant  than  Phoebe  had  been, 
and  although  her  brother  gave  her  as  much  of  his  time 
as  he  could,  she  was  of  necessity  left  a  good  deal  to 
herself. 

She  began  by  thinking  what  an  exceedingly  gentle- 
manly man  her  brother  was;  in  his  ordinary  working- 
clothes  he  had  been  as  much  at  his  ease  with  those 
ladies  as  though  he  had  been  dressed  in  a  city  costume, 
which,  however,  would  not  have  been  nearly  so  becoming 
to  him  as  his  loose  flannel  shirt  and  broad  straw  hat. 
She  then  began  to  regret  that  her  mind  worked  so 
slowly.  If  it  had  been  quicker  to  act,  she  would  have 
asked  that  young  lady  to  come  some  day  and  go  up  in 
the  haymow  with  her.  It  would  be  a  positive  charity  to 
give  a  girl  with  longings,  such  as  she  saw  that  one  had, 
a  chance  of  knowing  what  real  country  life  was.    It 


206  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

would  be  pleasant  to  show  things  to  a  girl  who  really 
wanted  to  know  about  them.  From  this  she  began  to 
think  of  Dora  Bannister.  Dora  was  a  nice  girl,  but 
Miriam  could  not  think  of  her  as  one  to  whom  she  could 
show  or  tell  very  much ;  Dora  liked  to  do  the  showing 
and  telling  herself. 

"  I  truly  believe,"  said  Miriam  to  herself,  and  a  slight 
flush  came  on  her  face,  "  that  if  she  could  have  done  it, 
she  would  have  liked  to  stay  here  a  week,  and  wear  the 
teaberry  gown  all  the  time  and  direct  everything,  —  al- 
though, of  course,  I  would  never  have  allowed  that." 
With  a  little  contraction  of  the  brows,  she  went  into  the 
hall,  where  she  heard  her  brother's  step. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   HAVERLEY   FINANCES    AND    MRS.    ROBINSON 

"It  bothers  the  head  off  of  me,"  said  Molly  Tooney 
to  Mike,  as  she  sat  eating  her  supper  in  the  Cobhurst 
kitchen,  "  to  try  to  f oind  out  what  thim  two  upstairs  is 
loike,  anyway,  'specially  her.  I've  been  here  nigh  onto 
two  weeks,  now,  and  I  don't  know  her  no  betther  than 
when  I  fust  come.  For  the  life  of  me  I  can't  make  out 
whether  she's  a  gal  woman  or  a  woman  gal.  Sometimes 
she's  one  and  sometimes  t'other.  And  then  there's  he. 
Why  didn't  he  marry  and  settle  before  he  took  a  house 
to  himself?  And  in  the  two  Sundays  I've  been  here, 
nather  of  thim's  been  to  church.    If  they  knowed  what 


HAVERLEY  FINANCES   AND  MRS.   ROBINSON     207 

was  becomin'  to  thim,  they'd  behave  like  Christians,  if 
they  are  heretics." 

Mike  sat  at  a  little  table  in  the  corner  of  the  kitchen 
with  his  back  to  Molly,  eating  his  supper.  He  had 
enough  of  the  Southern  negro  in  him  to  make  him 
dislike  to  eat  with  white  people  or  to  turn  his  face 
toward  anybody  while  partaking  of  his  meals.  But  he 
also  had  enough  of  a  son  of  Erin  in  him  to  make  him 
willing  to  talk  whenever  he  had  a  chance.  Turning 
his  head  a  little,  he  asked,  "Now  look  a  here,  Molly j 
if  a  man's  a  heretic,  how  can  he  be  a  Christian  ?  " 

"  There's  two  kinds  of  heretics,"  said  Molly,  filling  her 
great  tea-cup  for  the  fourth  time,  and  holding  the  teapot 
so  that  the  last  drop  of  the  strong  decoction  should  trickle 
into  the  cup ;  "  Christian  heretics  and  haythen  heretics. 
You're  one  of  the  last  koind  yoursilf,  Mike,  for  you  never 
go  nigh  a  church,  except  to  whitewash  the  walls  of  it. 
And  you'll  never  git  no  benefit  to  your  own  sowl,  from 
Phoebe's  boardin'  the  minister,  nather.  Take  my  word 
for  that,  Mike." 

Mike  allowed  himself  a  sort  of  froggy  laugh.  "There's 
nobody  gets  no  good  out  of  that,  but  him,"  said  he ;  "  but 
you've  got  it  crooked  about  their  not  goin'  to  church. 
They  did  go  reg'lar  at  fust,  but  the  gig's  at  the  wheel- 
wright's gettin'  new  shaf's." 

"Gig,  indeed!"  ejaculated  Molly.  "No  kirridge,  but 
an  auld  gig !  There's  not  much  quality  about  thim  two. 
I  wouldn't  be  here  working  for  the  likes  o'  thim,  if  it  was 
not  for  me  wish  to  oblige  Miss  Panney,  poor  old  woman 
as  she's  gittin'  to  be." 


208  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

Mike  shrewdly  believed  that  it  was  due  to  Miss  Pan- 
ney's  knowledge  of  some  of  Molly^s  misdeeds,  and  not 
to  any  desire  to  please  the  old  lady,  that  the  commands 
of  the  latter  were  law  to  the  Irishwoman,  but  he  would 
not  say  so. 

"Kerridge  or  no  kerridge,"  said  he,  "they're  good 
'nough  quality  for  me,  and  I  reckon  I  knows  what  qual- 
ity is.  They  hain't  got  much  money,  that's  sure,  but 
there's  lots  of  quality  that  ain't  got  money;  and  he's  got 
sense,  and  that's  better  than  money.  When  he  fust  come 
here,  I  jes'  goes  to  him,  and  ses  I,  ^  How's  you  goin'  to  run 
this  farm,  sir,  —  ramshackle  or  reg'lar  ? '  He  looked  at  me 
kinder  bothered,  and  then  I  'splained.  ^  Well,'  said  he, 
*  reg'lar  will  cost  more  money  than  I've  got,  and  I  reckon 
we'll  have  to  run  it  ramshackle.'  That's  what  we  did, 
and  we're  gittin'  along  fust  rate.  He  works  and  I  work, 
and  what  we  ain't  got  no  time  to  do,  we  let  stand  jes' 
thar  till  we  git  time  to  'tend  to  it.  That's  ramshackle. 
We  don't  spend  no  time  on  fancy  fixin's,  and  not  much 
money  on  nuthin'." 

"That's  jes'  what  I've  been  thinkin'  mesilf,"  said 
Molly.  "I  don't  see  no  signs  of  money  bein'  spint  on 
this  place  nather  for  one  thing  or  anuther." 

"  You  don't  always  have  to  spend  money  to  get  craps," 
said  Mike;  "look  at  our  corn  and  pertaters.  They  is 
fust  rate,  and  when  we  sends  our  craps  to  market, 
there  won't  be  much  to  take  for  'spenses  out  of  what 
we  git." 

"  Craps ! "  said  Molly,  with  a  sneer.  "  If  you  hauls 
your  weeds  to  market,  it'll  take  more  wagons  than  you 


HAVERLBY  FIKANCES   AND  MRS.   ROBINSON     209 

can  hire  in  this  country,  and  thim's  the  only  craps  my 
oi  has  lit  on  yit." 

This  made  Mike  angry.  He  was,  in  general,  a  good- 
natured  man,  but  he  had  a  high  opinion  of  himself  as  a 
farm  manager,  and  on  this  point  his  feelings  were  very 
sensitive.  As  was  usual  with  him  when  he  lost  his 
temper,  he  got  up  without  a  word  and  went  out. 

"  Bedad ! "  said  Molly,  looking  about  her,  "  I  wouldn't 
have  sid  that  to  him  if  I'd  seed  there  wasn't  no  kindlin' 
sphlit." 

As  Mike  walked  toward  his  own  house,  he  was  sur- 
prised to  see,  entering  a  little-used  gateway  near  the 
barn,  a  horse  and  carriage.  It  was  now  so  dark  he  could 
not  see  who  occupied  it,  and  he  stood  wondering  why  it 
should  enter  that  gateway,  instead  of  coming  by  the  main 
entrance.  As  he  stood  there,  the  equipage  came  slowly 
on,  and  presently  stopped  in  front  of  his  little  house.  By 
the  time  he  reached  it,  Phoebe,  his  wife,  had  alighted, 
and  was  waiting  for  him. 

*^  Reckon  you  is  surprised  to  see  me,"  said  she,  and 
then  turning  to  the  negro  man  who  drove  the  shabby 
hired  vehicle,  she  told  him  that  he  might  go  over  to  the 
barn  and  tie  his  horse,  for  she  would  not  be  ready  to  go 
back  for  some  time.  She  then  entered  the  house  with 
Mike,  and,  a  candle  having  been  lighted,  she  explained 
her  unexpected  appearance.  She  had  met  Miss  Dora 
Bannister,  and  that  young  lady  had  engaged  her  to  go 
to  Cobhurst  and  take  a  note  to  Miss  Miriam. 

"  She  tole  me,"  said  Phoebe,  "  that  she  had  wrote  two 
times  already  to  Miss  Miriam,  and  then,  havin'  suspected 


210  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHITRST 

somethin',  had  gone  to  the  pos'-office  and  found  they  was 
still  dar.  Don't  your  boss  ever  sen'  to  the  pos'-office, 
Mike?" 

"  He  went  hisself  every  now  an'  then,  till  the  gig  was 
broke,"  said  Mike,  "but  I  don't  believe  he  ever  got 
nuthin',  and  I  reckon  they  thought  it  was  no  use 
botherin'  about  sendin'  me,  special,  in  the  wagon." 

"Well,  they're  uncommon  queer  folks,"  said  Phoebe. 
"  I  reckon  they've  got  nobody  to  write  to,  or  git  letters 
from.  Anyway,  Miss  Dora  wanted  her  letter  to  git  here, 
and  so  she  says  to  me  that  if  I'd  take  it,  she'd  pay  the 
hire  of  a  hack,  and  so,  as  I  wanted  to  see  you  anyway, 
Mike,  I  'greed  quick  enough." 

Before  delivering  the  letter  with  which  she  had  been 
entrusted,  Phoebe  proceeded  to  attend  to  some  personal 
business,  which  was  to  ask  her  husband  to  lend  her  five 
dollars. 

"  Bless  my  soul,"  said  Mike,  "  I  ain't  got  no  five  dol- 
lars. I  ain't  asked  for  no  wages  yit,  and  don't  expect  to, 
till  the  craps  is  sold." 

"  I  can't  wait  for  that ! "  exclaimed  Phoebe ;  "  I's  got 
to  have  money  to  carry  on  the  house." 

"  Whar's  the  money  the  preacher  pays  you  ?  "  asked 
her  husband. 

"Dat's  a  comin',"  said  Phoebe,  "dat's  a  comin'  all 
right.  Thar's  to  be  a  special  c'lection  next  Sunday 
mornin',  and  the  money's  goin'  to  pay  the  minister's 
board.  I'm  to  git  every  cent  what's  owin'  to  me,  and  I 
reckon  it'll  take  it  all." 

"  He  ain't  paid  you  nuthin'  yit,  thin  ?  " 


HAVERLBY  FINANCES  AND  MRS.    ROBINSON     211 

"Not  yit;  there  was  another  special  c'lection  had  to 
be  tuk  up  fust,  but  the  next  one's  for  me.  Can't  you  go 
ask  your  boss  for  five  dollars?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Mike,  "he'll  give  it  to  me  if  I  ask 
him.  Look  here,  Phoebe,  we  might's  well  git  all  the 
good  we  kin  out  of  five  dollars,  and  I  reckon  I'll  come  to 
chu'ch  next  Sunday,  and  put  the  five  dollars  in  the  c'lec- 
tion.  I'll  git  the  credit  of  givin'  a  big  lot  of  money,  and 
that'll  set  me  up  a  long  time  wid  the  congregation,  and 
you  git  the  five  dollars  all  the  same." 

"Mike,"  said  Phoebe,  solemnly,  "don't  you  go  and  do 
dat ;  mind,  I  tell  you,  don't  you  do  dat.  You  give  me 
them  five  dollars,  and  jes'  let  that  c'lection  alone.  No 
use  you  wearin'  youself  out  a  walkin'  to  chu'ch,  and  all 
the  feedin'  and  milkin'  to  do  besides." 

Mike  laughed.  "  I  reckon  you  think  five  dollars  in  th' 
pahm  of  th'  hand  is  better  than  a  whole  c'lection  in  the 
bush.  I'll  see  th'  boss  before  you  go,  and  if  he's  got  the 
money,  he'll  let  me  have  it." 

Satisfied  on  this  point,  Phoebe  now  declared  that  she 
must  go  and  deliver  her  letter ;  but  she  first  inquired 
how  her  husband  was  getting  on,  and  how  he  was  treated 
by  Molly  Tooney. 

"  I  ain't  got  no  use  for  that  woman ; "  and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  his  wife  of  the  insult  that  had  been  passed 
on  his  crops. 

"That's  brazen  impidence,"  said  Phoebe,  "and  jes' 
like  her.  But  look  here,  Mike,  don't  you  quarrel  with 
the  cook.  No  matter  what  happens,  don't  you  quarrel 
with  the  cook." 


212  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"I  ain^t  goin*  to  quarrel  with  nobody/'  said  Mike; 
"  but  if  that  Molly  'spects  me  to  grease  her  wagon  wheels 
for  her,  she's  got  hold  of  the  wrong  man.  If  she  likes 
green  wood  for  the  kitchen  fire,  and  fotchin'  it  mos' 
times  for  herself,  that's  her  business,  not  mine." 

"  If  you  do  that,  Mike,  she'll  leave,"  said  PhcBbe. 

Mike  gave  himself  a  general  shrug. 

"  She  can't  leave,"  said  he,  "  till  Miss  Panney  tells  her 
she  kin." 

Phoebe  laughed  and  rose. 

"Reckon  I'll  go  in  and  see  Miss  Miriam,"  she  said, 
"and  while  I'm  doin'  that  you'd  better  ask  the  boss 
about  the  money." 

Having  delivered  the  letter,  and  having,  with  much 
suavity,  inquired  into  the  health  and  general  condition  of 
the  Cobhurst  family  since  she  had  walked  off  and  left  it 
to  its  own  resources,  and  having  given  Miriam  various 
points  of  information  in  regard  to  the  Bannister  and  the 
Tolbridge  families,  Phoebe  gracefully  took  leave  of  the 
young  mistress  of  the  house  and  proceeded  to  call  upon 
the  cook. 

"Hi,  Phoebe!"  cried  Molly,  who  was  engaged  in 
washing  dishes,  "  how  did  you  git  here  at  this  time  o' 
night  ?  " 

"  I'd  have  you  know,"  said  the  visitor,  with  lofty  dig- 
nity, "  that  my  name  is  Mrs.  Robinson,  and  if  you  want 
to  know  how  I  got  here,  I  came  in  a  kerridge." 

"  I  didn't  hear  no  kirridge  drive  up,"  said  Molly. 

"Humph!"  said  Mrs.  Robinson,  "I  reckon  I  know 
which  gate  is  proper  for  my  kerridge  to  come  in,  and 


HAVERLEY   FINANCES   AND   MRS.   ROBINSON     213 

which  gate  is  proper  for  the  Bannister  coachman  to 
drive  in.  I  suppose  there  is  cooks  that  would  drive  up 
to  the  front  door  if  the  governor's  kerridge  was  standin' 
there." 

Molly  looked  at  the  colored  woman,  with  a  grin. 

"  You're  on  your  high  hoss,  Mrs.  Eobinson/'  said  she. 
"That's  what  comes  o'  boardin'  the  minister.  That's 
lofty  business,  Mrs.  Eobinson,  an'  I  expect  you're 
afther  gittin'  rich.  Is  it  the  gilt-edged  butter  you  give 
him  for  his  ash-cakes?" 

"  A  pusson  that's  pious,"  said  Phoebe,  "  don't  want  to 
get  rich  outer  a  minister  of  the  gospel  —  " 

"  Which  would  be  wearin'  on  their  hopes  if  they  did," 
interrupted  Molly. 

"But  I  can  tell  you  this,"  continued  Phoebe,  more 
sharply,  "  that  it  isn't  as  if  I  was  a  Catholic  and  boardin' 
a  priest,  and  had  to  go  on  Wednesdays  and  confess  back 
to  him  all  the  money  he  paid  me  on  Tuesdays." 

Molly  laughed  aloud.  "  We  don't  confess  money,  Mrs. 
Eobinson,  we  confess  sins ;  but  perhaps  you  think  money 
is  a  sin,  and  if  that's  so,  this  house  is  the  innocentest 
place  I  ever  lived  in.  Sit  down,  Mrs.  Eobinson,  and  be 
friendly.  I  want  to  ax  you  a  question.  Has  thim  two, 
upstairs,  got  any  money?  What  made  you  pop  off  so 
sudden  ?     Didn't  they  pay  your  wages  ?  " 

Phoebe  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  and  sat 
up  very  straight.  She  felt  that  the  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion was  a  very  important  one.  She  herself  cared  noth- 
ing for  the  Haverleys,  but  Mike  lived  with  them,  and 
was  their  head  man,  and  it  was  not  consistent  with  her 


214  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

position  among  the  members  of  the  congregation  and  in 
the  various  societies  to  which  she  belonged,  that  her 
husband  should  be  in  the  employ  of  poor  and  conse- 
quently unrespected  people. 

"My  wages  was  paid,  every  cent,"  she  said,  "and  as 
to  their  money,  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  that  I  heard 
him  say  to  his  sister  with  my  own  ears,  that  he  was  goin' 
to  build  a  town  on  them  meaders,  with  streets  and 
chu'ches,  and  stores  on  the  corners  of  the  block,  and  a 
libr'y  and  a  bank,  and  she  said  she  wouldn't  object  if  he 
left  the  trees  standin'  between  the  house  and  the  mead- 
ers, so  that  they  could  see  the  steeples  and  nothin'  else. 
And  more  than  that,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Phoebe,  warm- 
ing as  she  spoke,  "  the  Bannister  family  isn't  and  never 
was  intimate  with  needy  and  no-count  families,  and 
nobody  could  be  more  sociable  and  friendly  with  this 
family  than  Miss  Dora  is,  writin'  to  her  four  or  five 
times  a  week,  and  as  I  said  to  Mike,  not  ten  minutes  ago, 
if  Mr.  Haverley  and  Miss  Dora  should  git  married,  her 
money  and  his  money  would  make  this  the  finest  place 
in  the  county,  and  I  toP  him  to  mind  an'  play  his  cards 
well  and  stay  here  as  butler  or  coachman  —  I  didn't  care 
which ;  and  he  said  he  would  like  coachman  best,  as  he 
was  used  to  bosses." 

Now,  considering  that  the  patience  of  her  own  coach- 
man must  be  pretty  nearly  worn  out,  and  believing  that 
what  she  had  said  would  inure  to  her  own  reputation, 
and  probably  to  Mike's  benefit  as  well,  and  that  its  force 
might  be  impaired  by  any  further  discussion  of  the  sub- 
ject, Phoebe  arose  and  took  a  dignified  leave. 


THE  doctor's  mission  216 

Molly  stood  some  moments  in  reflection. 
"Bedad,"  she  said  aloud,  "to-morrer  Til  clane  thim 
lamp-chimbleys  and  swape  the  bidrooms." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   doctor's   mission 


The  letter  which  Phoebe  brought  was  a  long  and 
cordial  one,  in  which  Dora  begged  that  Miriam  would 
come  and  make  her  a  visit  of  a  few  days.  She  said, 
moreover,  that  her  brother  was  intending  to  call  on 
Mr.  Haverley  and  urge  him  to  come  to  their  house  as 
frequently  as  he  could  during  his  sister's  visit.  Dora 
said  that  she  would  enjoy  having  Miriam  with  her  so 
very,  very  much ;  and  although  the  life  at  the  dear  old 
farm  must  be  always  charming,  she  believed  that  Mir- 
iam would  like  a  little  change,  and  she  would  do  every- 
thing that  she  could  to  make  the  days  pass  pleasantly. 

There  could  not  have  been  a  more  cordial  invitation, 
but  its  acceptance  was  considered  soberly  and  without 
enthusiasm. 

During  the  past  fortnight,  there  had  been  no  inter- 
course between  the  Bannister  and  Haverley  families. 
Dora,  it  is  true,  had  written,  but  her  letters  had  not 
been  called  for,  and  Ralph  had  not  been  to  her  house 
to  inquire  about  the  dog.  The  reason  for  this  was  that, 
turning  over  the  matter  in  his  mind  for  a  day  or  two, 
he  thought  it  well  to  mention  it  to  Miriam  in  a  casual 


216  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

way,  for  he  perceived  tliat  it  would  be  very  unwise  for 
him  to  go  to  Dora's  house  without  informing  his  sister 
and  giving  her  his  reasons  for  the  visit.  To  his  sur- 
prise, Miriam  strenuously  opposed  his  going  to  the  Ban- 
nister house  on  any  pretence  until  Mr.  Bannister  had 
called  upon  him,  and  showed  so  much  earnest  feeling 
on  the  subject  that  he  relinquished  his  intention.  He 
could  see  for  himself  that  it  would  not  be  the  proper 
thing  to  do;  and  so  he  waited,  with  more  impatience 
on  rainy  days  than  others,  for  Mr.  Herbert  Bannister 
to  call  upon  him. 

On  nearly  every  morning  of  the  two  weeks-  Dora 
asked  her  brother  at  breakfast  time  if  he  were  going 
that  day  to  call  at  Cobhurst ;  and  every  time  she  asked 
him,  Herbert  answered  that  he  would  go  that  day,  if  he 
possibly  could;  but  on  each  evening  he  informed  her 
that  at  the  hour  he  had  intended  to  start  for  Cobhurst 
a  client  or  clients  had  come  into  the  office,  or  a  client 
or  clients  had  been  in  the  office  and  had  remained  there. 
A  very  busy  man  was  Mr.  Bannister. 

Miriam's  opinion  on  the  subject  had  been  varied.  She 
frequently  felt  in  her  lonely  moments  that  it  would  be 
a  joy  to  see  Dora  Bannister  drive  in  at  the  gate. 

"  If  only,"  thought  Miriam,  with  a  sigh,  "  she  would 
content  herself  to  be  a  visitor  to  me,  just  as  I  would  be 
to  her,  and  not  go  about  contriving  things  she  thinks 
Ralph  would  like,  —  as  if  it  were  necessary  that  any 
one  should  come  here  and  do  that!  As  for  going  to 
her  house,  that  would  leave  poor  Ealph  here  all  by 
himself,  or  else  he  would  be  there  a  good  deal,  and  — " 


THE  doctor's  mission  217 

Here  a  happy  thought  struck  Miriam. 

"  I  can't  go,  anyway/'  she  said  aloud,  "  for  the  gig  is 
broken ; "  and,  her  brother  coming  in  at  that  moment, 
she  informed  him,  with  an  air  of  much  relief,  how  the 
matter  had  settled  itself. 

"But  I  don't  like  matters  to  settle  themselves  in 
that  way,"  said  Ealph.  "The  gig  should  certainly  be 
in  order  by  this  time.  I  will  go  myself  and  see  the 
man  about  it,  and  if  the  new  shafts  are  not  finished,  I 
can  hire  a  carriage  for  you.  There  is  no  need  of  your 
giving  up  a  pleasant  visit  for  the  want  of  means  of 
conveyance." 

"But  even  if  the  gig  were  all  ready  for  us  to  use, 
you  know  that  you  could  not  go  until  Mr.  Bannister 
has  called,"  said  the  cruel-minded  sister. 

Ealph  was  of  the  opinion  that  there  were  certain 
features  of  social  etiquette  which  ought  to  be  ruthlessly 
trodden  upon,  but  he  could  think  of  nothing  suitable  to 
say  in  regard  to  the  point  so  frequently  brought  up  by 
Miriam,  and,  walking  somewhat  moodily  to  the  front 
door,  he  saw  Dr.  Tolbridge  approaching  in  his  buggy. 

The  good  doctor  had  come  out  of  his  way,  and  on  a 
very  busy  morning,  to  lay  before  the  Haverleys  his 
project  concerning  Mrs.  Drane  and  her  daughter.  Hav- 
ing but  little  time,  he  went  straight  to  the  point,  and 
surprised  Miriam  and  Ealph  as  much  as  if  he  had  pro- 
posed to  them  to  open  a  summer  hotel.  But,  without 
regard  to  the  impression  he  had  made,  he  boldly  pro- 
ceeded in  the  statement  of  his  case. 

<*  Xq\k  couldn't  find  ^leasanteij  ladies,  than  Mrs.  Dra^Q 


218  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

and  her  daughter,"  he  said.  "The  latter  is  copying 
some  manuscript  for  me,  which  she  could  do  just  as  well 
here  as  at  my  house  — '' 

"  Are  you  talking  about  the  two  ladies  who  were  here 
yesterday  afternoon  ?  "  interrupted  Miriam. 

"  Here,  yesterday  afternoon  ! "  cried  the  doctor,  and 
now  it  was  his  turn  to  be  surprised. 

When  he  had  heard  the  story  of  the  trespass  on  pri- 
vate grounds,  the  doctor  laughed  heartily. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "Mistress  Fate  has  been  ahead  of 
me.  The  good  lady  is  in  the  habit  of  doing  that  sort 
of  thing.  And  now  that  you  know  the  parties  in  ques- 
tion, what  have  you  to  say  ?  " 

Miriam's  blood  began  to  glow  a  little,  and  as  she  gazed 
out  of  the  open  door  without  looking  at  anything,  her 
eyes  grew  very  bright.  In  her  loneliness,  she  had  been 
wishing  that  Dora  Bannister  would  drive  in  at  the  gate, 
and  here  was  a  chance  to  have  a  very  different  sort  of  a 
girl  drive  in  —  a  girl  to  whom  she  had  taken  a  great  fancy, 
although  she  had  seen  her  for  so  short  a  time. 

"  Would  they  want  to  stay  long  ?  "  she  asked,  without 
turning  her  head. 

The  doctor  saw  his  opportunity  and  embraced  it. 

"That  would  be  your  affair  entirely,"  he  said.  "If 
they  came  for  only  a  week,  it  would  be  to  you  no  more 
than  a  visit  from  friends,  and  to  breathe  this  pure  coun- 
try air,  for  even  that  time,  would  be  a  great  pleasure  and 
advantage  to  them  both." 

Miriam  turned  her  bright  eyes  on  her  brother. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Ralph  ?  "  she  asked. 


THE  doctor's  mission  219 

The  lord  of  Cobhurst,  who  had  allowed  his  sister  to 
tell  of  the  visit  of  the  Dranes,  had  been  thinking  what 
a  wonderful  piece  of  good  luck  it  would  have  been,  if, 
instead  of  these  strangers,  Dora  Bannister  and  her 
family  had  desired  to  find  quarters  in  a  pleasant  country- 
house  for  a  few  summer  weeks.  He  did  not  know  her 
family,  nor  did  he  allow  himself  to  consider  the  point 
that  said  family  was  accustomed  to  an  expensive  style  of 
living  and  accommodation,  entirely  unlike  anything  to 
be  found  on  a  ramshackle  farm.  He  only  thought  how 
delightful  it  would  be  if  it  were  Dora  who  wanted  to 
come  to  Cobhurst. 

As  Halph  looked  upon  the  animated  face  of  his  sister, 
it  was  easy  enough  to  see  that  the  case  as  presented  by  the 
doctor  interested  her  very  much,  and  that  she  was  awaiting 
his  answer  with  an  eagerness  that  somewhat  surprised  him. 

"And  you,  little  one,  would  you  like  to  have  these 
ladies  come  to  us?" 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  said  Miriam,  and  then  she  stopped. 
There  was  much  more  she  could  have  said,  which  crowded 
itself  into  her  mind  so  fast  that  she  could  scarcely  help 
saying  it,  but  it  would  have  been  contrary  to  the  inborn 
spirit  of  the  girl  to  admit  that  she  ever  felt  lonely  in 
this  dear  home,  or  that,  with  a  brother  like  Ralph,  she 
ever  craved  the  companionship  of  a  girl.  But  it  was  not 
necessary  to  say  any  more. 

"  If  you  want  them,  they  shall  come,"  said  Ralph,  and 
if  it  had  been  the  Tolbridges  or  Miss  Panney  whose 
society  his  sister  desired,  his  assent  would  have  been 
^iven  just  as  freely. 


220  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

In  fifteen  minutes  everything  was  settled  and  the  doc* 
tor  was  driving  away.  He  was  in  good  spirits  over  the 
results  of  his  mission,  for  that  morning  La  Fleur  had 
waylaid  him  as  he  went  out  and  again  had  spoken  to 
him  about  the  possibility  of  hiring  a  little  house  in  the 
suburbs. 

"  I  am  sure  this  arrangement  will  suit  our  good  cook," 
he  thought;  "but  as  for  its  continuance,  we  must  let 
time  and  circumstances  settle  that." 

The  doctor  reached  home  about  eleven  o'clock. 

"What  do  you  think  it  would  be  better  to  do,"  he 
said  to  his  wife,  when  he  had  made  his  report,  "  to  stop  at 
Mrs.  Drane's  as  I  go  out  this  afternoon,  or  to  tell  Cicely 
about  our  Cobhurst  scheme,  and  let  her  tell  her  mother  ?  " 

"The  thing  to  do,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  closing  her 
desk,  at  which  she  was  writing,  "  is  for  me  to  go  and  see 
Mrs.  Drane  immediately,  and  for  you  to  send  Cicely 
home  and  give  her  a  lot  of  work  to  do  at  Cobhurst. 
They  should  go  there  this  afternoon." 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor;  "of  course,  the  sooner  the 
better;  but  it  has  struck  me  perhaps  it  might  be  well 
to  mention  the  matter  to  Miss  Panney  before  the  Dranes 
actually  leave  Mrs.  Brinkly.  You  know  she  was  very 
active  in  procuring  that  place  for  them." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  looked  at  her  husband,  gave  a  little 
sigh,  and  then  smiled. 

"  What  is  your  opinion  of  a  bird,"  she  asked,  "  who, 
flying  to  the  shelter  of  the  woods,  thinks  it  would  be  a 
good  idea  to  stop  for  a  moment  and  look  down  the  gun- 
barrel  of  a  sportsman,  to  see  what  is  there  ?  " 


THE  doctor's  mission  221 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  and  then, 
catching  her  point,  gave  her  a  hearty  laugh  for  answer, 
and  walking  to  his  table,  took  up  a  sheet  of  manuscript 
and  carried  it  to  the  room  where  Miss  Drane  was 
working. 

"The  passage  which  so  puzzled  you,"  he  said,  "has 
been  deciphered  by  Mrs.  Tolbridge  and  myself,  and 
reads  thus :  '  The  philosophy  of  physiological  con- 
trasts grows.'" 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Cicely,  looking  at  the  paper ;  "  now 
that  you  tell  me  what  it  is,  it  is  as  plain  as  can  be.  I 
will  write  it  in  the  blank  space  that  I  have  left,  and 
here  are  some  more  words  that  I  would  like  to  ask 
you  about." 

"Not  now,  not  now,"  said  the  doctor.  "I  want  you 
to  stop  work  and  run  home.  As  soon  as  I  can  I  will 
talk  with  you  about  what  you  have  written,  and  give 
you  some  more  of  the  manuscript.  But  no  more  work 
for  to-day.  You  must  hurry  to  your  mother.  You 
will  find  Mrs.  Tolbridge  there,  talking  to  her  about  a 
change  of  quarters." 

"  Another  holiday  ! "  exclaimed  Cicely,  in  surprise. 

She  was  a  girl  who  worked  earnestly  and  conscien- 
tiously with  the  intention  of  earning  every  cent  of  the 
money  which  was  paid  to  her,  and  these  successive 
intermissions  of  work  seemed  to  her  unbusiness-like. 
But  she  made  no  objections,  and,  putting  away  her 
papers,  with  a  sigh,  for  she  had  a  list  of  points  about 
which  she  was  ready  and  anxious  to  consult  the  doctor, 
—  she  went  to  join  the  consultation,  which  she  presumed 


222  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

concerned  their  removal  from  one  street  in  Thorbury 
to  another.  But  when  she  discovered  the  heavenly 
prospect  which  had  opened  before  her  mother  and 
herself,  her  mind  bounded  from  all  thoughts  of  the 
manuscript  of  the  "Diagnosis  of  Sympathy,"  as  if  it 
had  been  a  lark  mounting  to  the  sky. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

BOMBSHELLS   AND    BROMIDE 

About  noon  on  the  next  day,  Mrs.  Tolbridge  sat  down 
at  her  desk  to  finish  the  writing  of  the  letter  which  had 
been  so  abruptly  broken  off  the  day  before.  She  had 
been  very  busy  that  afternoon  and  a  part  of  this  morn- 
ing, assisting  Mrs.  Drane  and  her  daughter  in  their  re- 
moval from  a  hot  street  in  a  little  town  to  the  broad 
freedom  and  fine  air  of  a  spacious  country  home. 

And  this  change  had  given  so  much  pleasure  to  all 
parties  concerned  that  it  was  natural  that  so  good  a 
woman  as  Mrs.  Tolbridge  should  feel  a  glow  of  satisfac- 
tion in  thinking  of  the  part  she  had  taken  in  it. 

She  was  satisfied  in  more  ways  than  one:  it  was 
agreeable  to  her  to  assist  in  giving  pleasure  to  others, 
but  besides  this,  she  had  a  little  satisfaction  which 
was  peculiarly  her  own ;  she  was  pleased  that  that 
very  pretty  and  attractive  Cicely  would  now  work  for 
the  doctor,  instead  of  working  so  much  with  him.  Of 
course  she  was  willing  to  give  up  the  little  room  if  it 


BOMBSHELLS  AND  BROMIDE  223 

were  needed,  but  it  was  a  great  deal  pleasanter  not  to 
have  it  needed. 

"  It  is  so  seldom,"  she  thought,  as  she  lifted  the  lid  of 
her  desk,  "  that  things  can  be  arranged  so  as  to  please 
everybody." 

At  this  moment  she  glanced  through  the  open  window 
and  saw  Miss  Panney  at  the  front  gate.  Closing  her 
desk,  Mrs.  Tolbridge  pushed  back  her  chair,  her  glow  of 
satisfaction  changing  into  a  little  chill. 

"  Is  the  doctor  at  home  ?  "  she  inquired  of  the  servant 
who  was  passing  the  door,  and  on  receiving  the  negative 
reply,  the  chilly  feeling  increased. 

Miss  Panney  was  in  a  radiant  humor.  She  seated  her- 
self in  her  favorite  rocking-chair ;  she  laid  her  fan  on  the 
table  near  her  and  her  reticule  by  it,  and  she  pushed  back 
from  her  shoulders  a  little  India  shawl. 

"I  am  treating  myself,"  she  said,  "to  a  regular  gala 
day ;  in  the  first  place,  I  intend  to  stay  here  to  luncheon. 
People  who  have  a  La  Fleur  must  expect  to  see  their 
friends  at  their  table  much  oftener  than  if  they  had  a 
Biddy  in  the  kitchen.  That  is  one  of  the  penalties  of 
good  fortune.  I  have  my  cap  in  my  bag,  and  as  soon  as 
I  have  cooled  a  little  I  will  take  off  my  bonnet  and  shawl. 
This  afternoon  I  am  going  to  see  the  Bannisters,  and  after 
that  I  intend  to  call  on  Mrs.  Drane  and  her  daughter.  I 
put  off  that  until  the  last  in  order  that  Miss  Drane  may 
be  at  home.  I  ought  to  have  called  on  them  before,  con- 
sidering that  I  did  so  much  in  getting  them  established 
in  Thorbury,  —  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Brinkly  would  not  have 
taken  them  if  I  had  not  talked  her  into  it,  —  but  one  thing 


224  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

and  another  has  prevented  my  going  there.  But  I  have 
seen  Miss  Drane;  I  came  to  town  yesterday  in  the 
Witton  carriage,  and  saw  her  in  the  street.  She  is  cer- 
tainly a  pretty  little  thing,  and  dresses  with  much  taste. 
We  all  thought  her  face  was  very  sweet  and  attractive. 
We  had  a  good  look  at  her,  for  she  was  waiting  for  our 
carriage  to  pass,  in  order  to  cross  the  street.  I  told  Jim, 
the  driver,  to  go  slowly,  for  I  like  to  have  a  good  look  at 
people  before  I  know  them.  And  by  the  way,  Kitty,  an 
idea  comes  into  my  head,"  and  as  she  said  this,  the  old 
lady's  eyes  twinkled,  and  a  little  smile  stole  over  the 
lower  part  of  her  wrinkled  face.  "  Perhaps  you  may  not 
like  the  doctor  to  have  such  an  extremely  pretty  secretary. 
Perhaps  you  may  have  preferred  her  to  have  a  stubby 
nose  and  a  freckled  face.     How  is  that,  Kitty  ?  " 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge.  "  It  makes  no  man- 
ner of  difference  what  sort  of  a  face  a  secretary  has ;  her 
handwriting  is  much  more  important." 

"  Oh,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  that. 
And  how  does  she  get  on  ?  " 

"  Very  well  indeed,"  was  the  answer ;  "  the  doctor  seems 
satisfied  with  her  work." 

"  That  is  nice,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "  and  how  do  they 
like  it  at  Mrs.  Brinkly's  ?  I  saw  their  rooms,  which  are 
neatly  furnished,  and  Mrs.  Brinkly  keeps  a  very  good 
table.     I  have  taken  many  a  meal  at  her  house." 

Had  there  been  a  column  of  mercury  at  Mrs.  Tol- 
bridge's  back,  it  would  have  gone  down  several  degrees, 
as  she  prepared  to  answer  Miss  Panney's  question.  She 
did  not  exactly  hesitate,  but  she  was  so  slow  in  beginning 


BOMBSHELLS  AND  BROMIDE  225 

to  speak,  that  Miss  Panney,  who  was  untying  her  bonnet- 
strings,  had  time  to  add,  reflectively,  "  Yes,  they  are  sure 
to  find  her  a  good  landlady." 

"The  Dranes  are  not  with  Mrs.  Brinkly  now,"  said 
Mrs.  Tolbridge.  "They  left  yesterday  afternoon,  al- 
though some  of  their  things  were  not  sent  away  until 
this  morning." 

The  old  lady's  hands  dropped  from  her  bonnet-strings 
to  her  lap. 

"Left  Mrs.  Brinkly!"  she  exclaimed.  "And  where 
have  they  gone?" 

"To  Cobhurst,  where  they  will  board  for  a  while, 
during  the  hot  weather.  They  found  it  very  close  and 
uncomfortable  in  that  part  of  the  town,  with  the  mercury 
in  the  eighties." 

Miss  Panney  sat  up  tall  and  straight.  Her  eyes  grew 
bigger  and  blacker  as  with  her  mental  vision  she  glared 
upon  the  situation.  Presently  she  spoke,  and  her  voice 
sounded  as  if  she  were  in  a  great  empty  cask,  with  her 
mouth  at  the  bunghole. 

"  Who  did  this  ?  "  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  was  glad  to  talk ;  it  suited  her  much 
better  at  this  time  to  do  the  talking  than  for  her  com- 
panion to  do  it,  and  she  proceeded  quite  volubly. 

"  Oh,  we  all  thought  the  change  would  be  an  excellent 
thing  for  them,  especially  for  Mrs.  Drane,  who  is  not 
strong ;  and  as  they  had  seen  Cobhurst  and  were  charmed 
with  the  place,  and  as  the  Haverleys  were  quite  willing 
to  take  them  for  a  little  while,  it  seemed  an  excellent 
thing  all  round.     It  was,  however,  our  cook,  La  Fleur, 

Q 


226  tHB  GIRL  AT  COBHtJRST 

who  was  the  chief  mover  in  the  matter.  She  was  very 
much  opposed  to  their  staying  with  Mrs.  Brinkly, — you 
see  she  had  lived  with  them  and  has  quite  an  affection 
for  them,  —  and  actually  went  so  far  as  to  talk  of  taking 
a  house  in  the  country  and  boarding  them  herself.  And 
you  know,  Miss  Panney,  how  bad  it  would  be  for  the 
doctor  to  lose  La  Fleur." 

"Did  the  doctor  have  anything  to  do  with  this?" 
asked  Miss  Panney. 

Now  Mrs.  Tolbridge  did  hesitate  a  little. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  he  spoke  to  the  Haverleys  about  it ; 
he  thought  it  would  be  an  excellent  thing  for  them," 

Miss  Panney  rose,  with  her  face  as  hard  as  granite. 
She  drew  her  shawl  about  her  shoulders,  and  took  up 
her  fan  and  bag.  Mrs.  Tolbridge  also  rose,  much 
troubled. 

"  You  must  not  imagine  for  a  minute,  Miss  Panney," 
she  said,  "  that  the  doctor  had  the  slightest  idea  that  this 
removal  would  annoy  you.  In  fact,  he  spoke  about  con- 
sulting you  in  regard  to  it,  and  had  he  seen  you  before 
the  affair  was  settled,  I  am  sure  he  would  have  done  so. 
And  you  must  not  think,  either,  that  the  doctor  urged 
the  Haverleys  to  take  these  ladies,  simply  because  he 
wished  to  keep  La  Fleur.  He  values  her  most  highly, 
but  he  thought  of  others  than  himself.  He  spoke  par- 
ticularly of  the  admirable  influence  Mrs.  Drane  would 
have  on  Miriam." 

The  old  lady  turned  her  flashing  eyes  on  Mrs.  Tol- 
bridge, and,  slightly  lowering  her  head,  she  almost 
screamed  these  words :    "  Blow  to  the  top  of  the  sky 


BOMBSHELLS  AKD  BROMIDE  227 

Mrs.  Diane's  influence  on  Miriam !  That  is  not  what  I 
care  for." 

Then  she  turned  and  walked  out  of  the  parlor,  followed 
by  Mrs.  Tolbridge.  At  the  front  door  she  stopped  and 
turned  her  wrathful  and  inexorable  countenance  upon 
the  doctor's  wife;  then  she  deliberately  shook  her  skirts, 
stamped  her  feet,  and  went  out  of  the  door. 

When  Dr.  Tolbridge  heard  what  had  happened,  he  was 
sorely  troubled.  "  I  must  go  to  see  her,"  he  said.  "  I 
cannot  allow  her  to  remain  in  that  state  of  mind.  I  think 
I  can  explain  the  affair  and  make  her  iook  at  it  more  as 
we  do,  although,  I  must  admit,  now  that  I  recall  some 
things  she  recently  said  to  me,  that  she  may  have  some 
grave  objections  to  Cicely's  residence  at  Cobhurst.  But 
I  shall  see  her,  and  I  think  I  can  pacify  her." 

Mrs.  Tolbridge  was  not  so  hopeful  as  her  husband ;  he 
had  not  seen  Miss  Panney  at  the  front  door.  But  she 
could  not  bring  herself  to  regret  the  advice  she  had 
given  him  when  he  proposed  consulting  Miss  Panney  in 
regard  to  the  Dranes'  removal. 

"  I  shall  never  object  to  La  Fleur,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  I  will  bear  all  her  impositions  and  queernesses  for  the 
sake  of  his  health  and  pleasure,  but  I  cannot  give  up  my 
little  room  to  Cicely  Drane." 

And  that  very  hour  she  caused  to  be  replaced  in  the 
said  room  the  desk  and  other  appurtenances  which  had 
been  taken  out  when  the  room  had  been  arranged  for 
the  secretary. 

These  changes  had  hardly  been  made,  when  Dora 
Bannister  called. 


228  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"Miss  Panney  was  at  our  house  to-day,"  said  the 
girl,  "and  I  cannot  imagine  what  was  the  matter  with 
her.     I  never  saw  anybody  in  such  a  state  of  mind." 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Tolbridge. 

"  She  said  very  little,  and  that  was  one  of  the  strang- 
est things  about  her.  But  she  sat  and  stared  and  stared 
and  stared  at  me,  as  if  I  were  some  sort  of  curiosity  on 
exhibition,  and  did  not  answer  anything  I  said  to  her. 
I  was  awfully  nervous,  though  I  knew  from  the  few  words 
she  had  said  that  she  was  not  angry  with  me ;  but  she 
kept  on  staring  and  staring  and  staring,  and  then  she 
suddenly  leaned  forward  and  put  her  arms  around  me 
and  kissed  me.  Then  she  sat  back  in  her  chair  again, 
slapped  her  two  hands  upon  her  knees,  and  said,  speak- 
ing to  herself,  ^  It  shall  be  done.  I  am  a  fool  to  have  a 
doubt  about  it.'  And  then  she  went  without  another 
word.  Now  was  not  that  simply  amazing?  Did  she 
come  here,  and  did  she  act  in  that  way?" 

"  She  was  here,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "  but  she  did  not 
do  anything  so  funny  as  that." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  shall  find  out  some  day  what  she 
means,"  said  Dora.  "And  now,  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  I  did 
not  come  altogether  to  see  you  this  afternoon.  I  hope 
Miss  Drane  has  not  gone  home  yet,  for  I  thought  it 
would  be  nice  to  meet  her  here.  Mother  and  I  are 
going  to  call  on  them,  but  I  do  not  know  when  that  will 
be ;  and  I  have  heard  so  much  about  the  doctor's  secre- 
tary that  I  am  perishing  to  see  her.  They  say  she  is 
very  pretty  and  bright.  I  wanted  mother  to  go  there 
to-day,  but  we  have  had  a  long  drive  this  morning,  and 


BOMBSHELLS   AND   BROMIDE  229 

to-morrow  she  and  I  and  Herbert  are  going  to  call  at 
Cobhurst;  and  you  know  mother  will  never  consent  to 
crowd  things.  And  so  I  thought  I  would  come  here  this 
afternoon  by  myself.    It  won't  be  like  a  call,  you  know." 

"  Miss  Drane  is  not  here,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge ;  "  but 
if  you  want  to  see  her,  you  can  do  it  to-morrow,  if  you 
go  to  Cobhurst.  She  and  her  mother  are  now  living 
there,  boarding  with  the  Haverleys." 

"Living  at  Cobhurst!''  exclaimed  Dora;  and  as  she 
uttered  these  words,  the  girl  turned  pale. 

"Heavens!"  mentally  ejaculated  the  doctor's  wife. 
"  I  do  nothing  this  day  but  explode  bombshells." 

In  a  moment  Dora  recovered  nearly  all  her  color,  and 
laughed. 

"It  is  so  funny,"  she  said,  "that  all  sorts  of  things 
happen  in  this  town  without  our  knowing  it.  Is  she 
still  going  to  be  the  doctor's  secretary?" 

"  Yes,  she  can  do  her  work  out  there  as  well  as  here." 

Dora  looked  out  of  the  window  as  if  she  saw  some- 
thing hi  the  garden,  and  Mrs.  Tolbridge  charitably  took 
her  out  to  show  her  some  new  dahlias. 

Early  the  next  morning.  Dr.  Tolbridge  drove  into  the 
Witton  yard.  No  matter  who  waited  for  him,  he  would 
not  delay  this  visit.  When  he  asked  for  Miss  Panney, 
he  had  a  strong  idea  that  the  old  lady  would  refuse  to 
see  him.  But  in  an  astonishingly  short  space  of  time, 
she  marched  into  the  parlor,  every  war-flag  flying,  and 
closed  the  door  behind  her. 

Without  shaking  hands  or  offering  the  visitor  any  sort 
pf  salutation,  she  seated  herself  in  a  chair  in  the  middle 


230  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

of  the  room.  "  Now,"  said  she,  "  don't  lose  any  time  in 
saying  what  you  have  got  to  say." 

Not  encouraged  by  this  reception,  the  doctor  could 
not  instantly  arrange  what  he  had  to  say.  But  he 
shortly  got  his  ideas  into  order,  and  proceeded  to  lay 
the  case  in  its  most  favorable  light  before  the  old  lady, 
dwelling  particularly  on  the  reasons  why  she  had  not 
been  consulted  in  the  affair. 

Miss  Panney  heard  him  to  the  end  without  a  change 
in  the  rigidity  of  her  face  and  attitude.  ^^Very  well, 
then,"  she  said,  when  he  had  finished,  "I  see  exactly 
what  you  have  done.  You  have  thrown  me  aside  for  a 
cook." 

"  Not  at  all ! "  exclaimed  the  doctor.  "  I  had  no  idea 
of  throwing  you  aside.  In  fact.  Miss  Panney,  I  never 
thought  of  you  in  the  matter  at  all." 

"  Exactly,  exactly,"  said  the  old  lady,  with  emphatic 
sharpness ;  "  you  never  thought  of  me  at  all.  That  is 
the  sum  and  substance  of  what  you  have  done.  I  gave 
you  my  confidence.  I  told  you  my  intentions,  my  hopes, 
the  plan  which  was  to  crown  and  finish  the  work  of  my 
life.  I  told  you  I  would  make  the  grandson  of  the  only 
man  I  ever  loved  my  heir,  and  I  would  do  this,  because 
I  wished  him  to  marry  the  daughter  of  the  man  who 
was  my  best  friend  on  earth.  The  marriage  of  these 
two  and  the  union  of  the  estate  of  Cobhurst  with  the 
wealth  of  the  Bannisters  was  a  project  which,  as  I  told 
you,  had  grown  dear  to  my  heart,  and  for  which  I  was 
thinking  and  dreaming  and  working.  All  this  you 
knew,  and  without  9.  word  to  me,  and  if  you  speak  the 


BOMBSHELLS   AND  BROMIDE  281 

truth,  all  for  the  sake  of  your  wretched  stomach,  you 
clap  into  Cobhurst  a  girl  who  will  be  engaged  to  Ralph 
Haverley  in  less  than  a  month." 

The  doctor  moved  impatiently  in  his  chair. 

"Nonsense,  Miss  Panney.  Cicely  Drane  will  not  harm 
your  plans.  She  is  a  sensible,  industrious  girl,  who  at- 
tends to  her  own  business,  and  —  " 

"  Precisely,"  said  Miss  Panney ;  "  and  her  own  busi- 
ness will  be  to  settle  for  life  at  Cobhurst.  She  may 
not  be  courting  young  Haverley  to-day,  but  she  will 
begin  to-morrow.  She  will  do  it,  and  what  is  more,  she 
would  be  a  fool  if  she  did  not.  It  does  not  matter  what 
sort  of  a  girl  she  is ; "  and  now  Miss  Panney  began  to 
speak  louder,  and  stood  up ;  "  it  does  not  matter  if  she 
had  five  legs  and  two  heads ;  you  have  no  right  to  thrust 
any  intruder  into  a  household  which  I  had  taken  into 
my  charge,  and  for  which  I  had  my  plans,  all  of  which 
you  knew.  You  are  a  false  friend.  Dr.  Tolbridge,  and 
at  your  doorstep  I  have  shaken  the  dust  from  my  skirts 
and  my  feet."  And  with  a  quick  step  and  a  high  head, 
she  marched  out  of  the  room. 

The  doctor  took  a  little  book  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
on  a  blank  leaf  wrote  the  following:  — 

3. 

Potass.  Bromid.  .  .  .  3iij 
Tr.  Dig.  Natis.    .  .  .  n^.  xxx 
Tr.  Lavand.  Comp.   .  ad  5iij 
M.  S.  teaspoonful  every  three  hours. 

H.D. 


232  THE  GIRL  AT  GOBHURST 

Having  sent  this  to  Miss  Panney  by  a  servant,  he  went 
his  way.  Driving  along,  his  conscience  stung  him  a  lit- 
tle when  he  thought  of  the  fable  his  wife  had  told  him ; 
but  the  moral  of  the  fable  had  made  but  little  impres- 
sion upon  him,  and  as  an  antidote  to  the  sting  he  applied 
his  conviction  that  matchmaking  was  a  bad  business, 
and  that  in  love  affairs,  as  well  as  in  many  diseases,  the 
very  best  thing  to  do  was  to  let  nature  take  its  course. 

When  Miss  Panney  read  the  paper  which  had  been 
sent  to  her,  her  eyes  flashed,  and  then  she  laughed. 

"  The  wretch ! "  she  exclaimed ;  "  it  is  just  like  him." 
And  in  the  afternoon  she  sent  to  her  apothecary  in 
Thorbury  for  the  medicine  prescribed.  "If  it  cools  me 
down,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I  shall  be  able  to  work 
better." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

DORA   COMES   AND   SEES 


The  call  by  the  Bannisters  at  Cobhurst  was  made  as 
planned.  Had  storm  or  sudden  war  prevented  Mrs. 
Bannister  and  Herbert  from  going,  Dora  would  have 
gone  by  herself.  She  did  not  appear  to  be  in  her  usual 
state  of  health  that  day,  and  Mrs.  Bannister,  noticing 
this,  and  attributing  it  to  Dora's  great  fondness  for  fruit 
at  this  season  and  neglect  of  more  solid  food,  had  sug- 
gested that  perhaps  it  might  be  well  for  her  not  to  take 
9,  long  drive  that  afternoon.    But  this  remark  was  addedt 


DORA  COMES  AND  SEES  283 

to  the  thousand  suggestions  made  by  the  elder  lady  and 
not  accepted  by  the  younger. 

Miriam  was  in  the  great  hall  when  the  Bannister 
family  drove  up,  and  she  greeted  her  visitors  with  a 
well-poised  affability  which  rather  surprised  Mrs.  Ban- 
nister. Dora  instantly  noticed  that  she  was  better 
dressed  than  she  had  yet  seen  her. 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  parlor,  Mrs.  Bannister 
announced  that  their  call  was  intended  to  include  Mrs. 
Drane  and  her  daughter,  and  Herbert  hoped  that  this 
time  he  would  be  able  to  see  Mr.  Haverley. 

Mrs.  Drane  was  sent  for,  but  Miriam  did  not  know 
where  her  brother  and  Miss  Drane  should  be  looked  for. 
She  had  seen  them  walk  by  the  back  piazza,  but  did  not 
notice  in  what  direction  they  had  gone.  At  this  moment 
there  ran  through  Dora  a  sensation  similar  to  that  occa- 
sioned by  a  mild  galvanic  shock,  but  as  she  was  looking 
out  of  the  open  door,  the  rest  of  the  company  saw  no 
signs  of  this. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Mrs.  Bannister,  in  a  low  voice,  and 
speaking  rather  rapidly,  "  but  I  thought  that  Miss  Drane 
was  working  for  Dr.  Tolbridge,  copying,  or  something  of 
that  kind." 

"  She  is,"  answered  Miriam,  "  but  she  has  her  regular 
hours,  and  stops  at  five  o'clock,  just  as  she  did  when  she 
was  in  the  doctor's  house." 

When  Mrs.  Drane  had  appeared  and  the  visitors  had 
been  presented,  Miriam  said  that  she  would  go  herself 
and  look  for  Ealph  and  Miss  Drane.  She  thought  now 
that  it  was  very  likely  they  were  in  the  orchard, 


234  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  Let  me  go  with  you,"  exclaimed  Dora,  springing  to 
her  feet,  and  in  a  moment  she  and  Miriam  had  left  the 
house. 

"I  heard  her  say,"  said  Miriam,  "that  she  wanted 
some  summer  apples,  fresh  from  the  tree,  and  that  is  the 
reason  why  I  suppose  they  are  in  the  orchard.  You 
never  knew  anybody  so  wild  about  country  things  as 
Miss  Drane  is.  And  she  knows  so  little  about  them 
too." 

"  Do  you  like  her  ?  "  asked  Dora. 

"Ever  so  much.  I  think  she  is  as  nice  as  can  be.  She 
is  a  good  deal  older  than  I  am,  but  sometimes  it  seems  as 
if  it  were  the  other  way.  I  suppose  one  reason  is  that 
she  wants  to  know  so  much,  and  I  think  I  must  like  to 
tell  people  things  —  nice  people,  I  mean." 

Dora's  mind  was  in  a  state  of  lively  receptivity,  and  it 
received  an  impression  from  Miriam's  words  that  might 
be  of  use  hereafter.  But  now  they  had  reached  the 
orchard,  and  there,  standing  on  a  low  branch  of  a  tree, 
was  Ealph,  and  below  was  Miss  Drane.  Her  laughing 
face  was  turned  upward,  and  she  was  holding  her  straw 
hat  to  catch  an  apple,  but  it  was  plain  that  she  was  not 
skilled  in  that  sort  of  exercise,  and  when  the  apple 
dropped,  it  barely  touched  the  rim  of  the  hat  and  rolled 
upon  the  ground,  and  then  they  both  laughed  as  if  they 
had  known  each  other  for  twenty  years. 

"  What  a  little  thing,"  said  Miss  Bannister. 

"  She  is  small,"  answered  Miriam,  "  but  isn't  she  pretty 
and  graceful  ?  And  her  clothes  fit  her  so  beautifully. 
I  am  sure  you  will  like  her." 


DORA  COMES  AND  SEES  235 

Ralph  came  down  from  the  tree,  the  straw  hat  was 
replaced  on  the  head  of  Miss  Drane,  and  then  came 
introduction  and  greeting.  Never  before  had  Dora  Ban- 
nister found  it  so  hard  to  meet  any  one  as  she  found  it 
to  meet  these  two.  She  was  only  eighteen,  and  had 
had  no  experience  in  comporting  herself  in  an  ordinary 
way  when  her  every  impulse  prompted  her  to  do  or  say 
something  quite  extraordinary.  But  she  was  a  girl  who 
could  control  herself,  and  she  now  controlled  herself  so 
well,  that  had  Miss  Panney  or  Mrs.  Tolbridge  been  there 
they  would  instantly  have  suspected  what  was  meant  by 
so  much  self-control.  She  greeted  Miss  Drane  with 
much  suavity,  and  asked  her  if  she  liked  apples. 

As  the  party  started  for  the  house,  Dora,  who  was  a 
quick  walker,  was  not  so  quick  as  usual,  and  Ralph 
naturally  slackened  his  pace  a  little.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments Miriam  and  Miss  Drane  were  hurrying  toward 
the  house,  considerably  in  advance  of  the  others. 

"It  is  so  nice,"  said  Dora,  "for  your  sister  to  have 
ladies  in  the  house  with  her.  I  have  been  wanting  to 
see  her  ever  so  much,  and  was  afraid  something  was 
the  matter  with  her,  especially  as  you  did  not  come 
for  your  dog." 

As  Ralph  was  explaining  his  apparent  ungraciousness, 
Dora's  soul  was  roughly  shaken.  She  was  angry  with 
him  and  wanted  to  show  it,  but  she  saw  clearly  that 
this  would  be  unsafe.  Her  hold  upon  him  was  very 
slight,  and  a  few  unwise  words  now  might  make  him 
no  more  than  a  mere  acquaintance.  She  did  not  wish 
to  say  words  that  would  do  that,  but  if  she  held  him 


286  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

by  a  cord  ever  so  slender,  slie  would  obey  the  prompt- 
ings of  her  soul  and  endeavor  to  draw  him  a  little 
toward  her.  She  would  take  the  risks  of  that,  for  if 
he  drifted  away  from  her,  the  cord  would  be  as  likely 
to  break  as  if  she  drew  upon  it. 

"Oh  yes,"  she  said,  "I  knew  all  the  time  why  you 
and  Miriam  did  not  come  to  make  a  regular  society 
call,  but  I  did  suppose  that  you  would  drop  in  to  see 
about  Congo.  As  soon  as  I  got  home,  after  I  promised 
him  to  you,  I  began  to  educate  him  to  cease  to  care  for 
me,  and  to  care  for  you.  If  you  had  been  there,  all  this 
would  have  been  easy  enough,  but  as  it  was,  I  had  to 
get  Herbert  or  the  coachman  to  take  him  out  walking 
at  the  times  I  used  to  take  him,  and  when  he  was  tied 
up  I  kept  away  from  his  little  house  altogether,  so  that 
he  should  become  accustomed  to  do  without  me.  I 
stopped  feeding  him,  and  made  Herbert  do  that  when- 
ever he  had  time,  and  I  insisted  that  he  should  wear 
a  big  straw  hat,  which  he  does  not  like,  but  which  is 
a  good  deal  like  the  one  you  wear,  and  which  I  thought 
might  have  an  influence  on  the  mind  of  Congo." 

This  touched  Ralph,  and  he  did  not  wish  that  Miss 
Bannister  should  suppose  that  he  thought  so  little  of 
a  gift  of  which  she  thought  so  much.  And  in  order 
to  entirely  remove  any  suspicion  of  ungratefulness,  he 
endeavored  to  make  her  understand  that  he  had  wished 
very  much  to  go  to  see  the  dog,  but  wished  much  more 
to  go  to  see  her. 

"I  hate  a  great  many  of  these  social  rules,"  he  said, 
"  and  although  I  did  not  know  any  of  the  rest  of  your 


DOBA  COMES  AND  SEES  237 

family,  I  knew  you,  and  felt  very  much  inclined  to  call 
on  you  and  let  the  customs  take  care  of  themselves." 

"  I  wish  you  had ! "  exclaimed  Dora ;  "  I  like  to  see 
people  brave  enough  to  trample  on  customs." 

Her  spirits  were  rising,  and  she  walked  still  slower. 
This  tgte-a-t§te  was  very  delightful  to  Ralph,  but  he  had 
no  desire  to  trample  on  all  social  customs,  and  his  feel- 
ings of  courteous  hospitality  urged  him  to  go  as  rapidly 
as  possible  to  greet  the  special  visitor  who  was  waiting 
for  him ;  but  to  desert  that  gentleman's  sister,  or  make 
her  walk  quickly  when  she  did  not  wish  to,  was  equally 
opposed  to  his  ideas  of  courtesy,  and  so  it  happened 
that  Dora  and  Ralph  entered  the  parlor  so  much  later 
than  the  others  that  a  decided  impression  was  made 
on  the  minds  of  Mrs.  and  Miss  Drane.  And  this  was 
what  Dora  wished.  She  felt  that  it  would  be  a  very 
good  thing  in  this  case  to  assert  some  sort  of  a  preemp- 
tion claim.  It  could  do  no  harm,  and  might  be  of  great 
service. 

After  the  manner  of  the  country  gentlemen  who  in 
mixed  society  are  apt  to  prefer  their  own  sex  for  pur- 
poses of  converse,  Herbert  Bannister  monopolized  Ralph. 
His  sister  talked  with  Cicely  Drane,  and  in  spite  of  her 
natural  courage  and  the  reasons  for  self-confidence  which 
she  had  just  received,  Dora's  spirits  steadily  fell  as 
she  conversed  with  this  merry,  attractive  girl,  who  knew 
so  well  how  to  make  herself  entertaining,  even  to  other 
girls,  and  who  was  actually  living  in  Ralph  Haverley's 
house. 

Dora  made  the  visit  shorter  than  it  otherwise  would 


238  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

have  been.  She  had  come,  she  had  seen,  and  she  wanted 
to  go  home  and  think  about  the  rest  of  the  business. 
The  drive  home  was,  in  a  degree,  pleasant  because  Her- 
bert had  a  great  deal  to  say  about  Mr.  Haverley,  whom 
he  had  found  most  agreeable,  and  because  Mrs.  Bannis- 
ter spoke  in  praise  of  Ralph's  manly  beauty,  but  it 
would  depend  upon  future  circumstances  whether  or 
not  remarks  of  this  kind  could  be  considered  entirely 
satisfactory. 

That  evening,  in  her  own  room,  in  a  loose  dressing- 
gown,  and  with  her  hair  hanging  over  her  shoulders, 
Dora  devoted  herself  to  an  earnest  consideration  of  her 
relations  with  Ralph  Haverley.  At  first  sight  it  seemed 
odd  that  there  should  be  any  relations  at  all,  for  she  had 
known  him  but  a  short  time,  and  he  had  made  few  or  no 
advances  toward  her  —  not  half  so  many  or  such  pro- 
nounced ones  as  other  men  had  made,  during  her  few 
visits  to  fashionable  resorts.  But  she  settled  this  part 
of  the  question  very  promptly. 

"I  like  him  better  than  anybody  I  have  ever  seen,'' 
she  said  to  herself.  "  In  fact,  I  love  him,  and  now  — " 
and  then  she  went  on  to  consider  the  rest  of  the  matter, 
which  was  not  so  easy  to  settle. 

Cicely  Drane  was  terribly  hard  to  settle.  There  was 
that  girl,  —  all  the  more  dangerous  because,  being  charm- 
ing and  little,  a  man  would  be  more  apt  to  treat  her  as  a 
good  comrade  than  if  she  were  charming  and  tall,  —  who 
was  with  him  all  the  time.  And  how  she  would  be  with 
him,  Dora's  imagination  readily  perceived,  because  she 
knew  how  she  herself  would  be  with  him  under  the  cir- 


DORA  COMES  AND  SEES  289 

cmnstances.  Before  breakfast  in  the  dewy  grass,  gather- 
ing apples ;  during  work  hours,  talking  through  the  open 
window  as  he  chanced  to  pass ;  after  five  o'clock,  walks 
in  the  orchard,  walks  over  the  farm,  in  the  woods  every- 
where, and  always  those  two  together,  because  there 
were  four  of  them.  How  much  worse  it  was  that  there 
were  four  of  them !  And  the  evenings,  moonlight,  star- 
light; on  the  piazza;  good-night  on  the  stairs  —  it  was 
maddening  to  think  of. 

But,  nevertheless,  she  thought  of  it  hour  after  hour, 
with  no  other  result  than  to  become  more  and  more  con- 
vinced that  she  was  truly  in  love  with  a  man  who  had 
never  given  any  sign  that  he  loved  her,  and  that  there  was 
every  reason  to  believe  that  when  he  gave  a  sign  that  he 
loved,  it  would  be  to  another  woman,  and  not  to  her. 

She  rose  and  looked  out  of  the  window.  A  piece  of 
the  moon,  far  gone  in  the  third  quarter,  was  rising  above 
a  mass  of  evergreens.  She  had  a  courageous  young  soul, 
and  the  waning  brightness  of  the  lovers'  orb  did  not 
affect  her  as  a  disheartening  sign. 

"It  is  not  right,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  will  not  do 
it.  I  will  not  hang  like  an  apple  on  a  tree  for  any  one 
to  pick  who  chooses,  or  if  nobody  chooses,  to  drop  down 
to  the  chickens  and  pigs.  A  woman  has  as  much  right  to 
try  to  do  the  best  for  herself  as  a  man  has  to  try  to  do 
the  best  for  himself.  I  can't  really  trample  on  customs 
as  a  man  can,  but  I  can  do  it  in  my  mind,  and  I  do  it 
now.     I  love  him,  and  I  will  get  him  if  I  can." 

With  this  Dora  sat  down,  and  left  the  bit  of  moon  to 
shed  what  luminousness  it  could  over  the  landscape. 


240  THE  GIEL  AT  COBHURST 

Her  resolution  shed  a  certain  luminousness  over 
Dora^s  soul.  To  determine  to  do  a  thing  is  nearly 
always  inspiriting. 

"Yes,"  she  thought,  "I  will  do  what  I  can.  He  has 
promised  to  come  very  soon,  and  he  shall  not  have  Congo 
the  first  time  he  comes.  He  shall  come,  and  I  shall  go, 
and  I  shall  be  great  friends  with  Miriam.  There  will  be 
nothing  false  in  that,  for  I  like  her  ever  so  much,  and  I 
shall  remember  to  think  more  of  what  she  likes.  No 
one  shall  see  me  break  down  any  customs  of  society,  — 
especially,  he  shall  not,  —  but  out  of  my  mind  they  are 
swept  and  utterly  gone." 

Having  thus  shaped  her  course,  Dora  thought  she 
would  go  to  bed.  But  suddenly  an  idea  struck  her,  and 
she  stood  and  pondered. 

"  I  believe,"  she  said,  speaking  aloud  in  her  earnest- 
ness, "  I  believe  that  that  is  what  Miss  Panney  meant. 
She  has  spoken  so  well  of  him  to  me;  she  has  heard 
about  that  girl,  and  she  said,  yes,  she  certainly  did  say, 
^It  shall  be  done.'  She  wants  it,  I  truly  believe;  she 
wants  me  to  marry  him." 

For  a  few  minutes  she  stood  gazing  at  her  ring,  and 
then  she  said,  — 

"  I  will  go  to  her ;  I  will  tell  her  everything.  It  will 
be  a  great  thing  to  have  Miss  Panney  on  my  side.  She 
does  not  care  for  customs,  and  she  will  never  breathe  a 
word  to  a  soul." 

Dr.  Tolbridge  was  not  mistaken  in  his  estimate  of  the 
sort  of  mind  Dora  Bannister  would  have  when  she  should 
shed  her  old  one. 


"II?  COULDN^T  BiJ  BftfT^R  TflAiJ  THAT"      241 

CHAPTER  XXVII 
"it  couldn't  be  better  than  that" 

The  Haverleys  could  not  expect  that  the  people  of 
Thorbury  would  feel  any  general  and  urgent  desire  to 
recognize  them  as  neighbors.  They  did  not  live  in  the 
town,  and  moreover  newcomers,  even  to  the  town  itself, 
were  usually  looked  upon  as  "summer  people,"  until 
they  had  proved  that  they  were  to  be  permanent  resi- 
dents, and  the  leading  families  of  Thorbury  made  it  a 
rule  not  to  call  on  summer  people. 

But  the  example  of  the  Tolbridges  and  Bannisters 
had  a  certain  effect  on  Thorbury  society,  and  people 
now  began  to  drive  out  to  Cobhurst;  not  very  many 
of  them,  but  some  of  them  representative  people.  Mr. 
Ames,  the  rector  of  Grace  Church,  came  early  because 
the  Haverleys  had  been  to  his  church  several  times,  and 
Mr.  Torry,  the  Presbyterian  minister,  came  afterwards 
because  the  Haverleys  had  stopped  going  to  Grace 
Church,  and  he  did  not  know  that  it  was  on  account 
of  the  gig  shafts. 

Mr.  Hampton,  the  Methodist,  who  was  a  pedestrian, 
walked  out  to  Cobhurst  one  day,  but  as  neither  the 
brother  or  sister  could  be  found,  he  good-humoredly 
resolved  to  postpone  a  future  call  until  cooler  weather. 

Lately,  when  a  lady  had  called,  it  happened  that  there 
had  been  no  one  to  receive  her  but  Mrs.  Drane;  and 
although  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  that  lady  per- 


242  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHITBST 

formed  the  duties  of  hostess  most  admirably,  Miriam 
resolved  that  that  thing  should  never  happen  again. 
She  did  not  wish  the  people  to  think  that  there  was  a 
regent  in  rule  at  Cobhurst,  and  she  now  determined  to 
make  it  a  point  to  be  within  call  during  ordinary  visit- 
ing hours.  Or,  if  she  felt  strongly  moved  to  a  late 
afternoon  ramble,  she  would  invite  the  other  ladies  to 
accompany  her.  She  still  wore  her  hair  down  her  back, 
and  her  dresses  did  not  quite  touch  the  tops  of  her  boots, 
and  it  was  therefore  necessary  to  be  careful  in  regard  to 
her  prerogatives  as  mistress  of  the  house. 

Early  one  afternoon,  much  sooner  than  there  was 
reason  to  expect  visitors,  a  carriage  came  in  at  the 
Cobhurst  gate,  driven  by  our  friend  Andy  Griffing. 
Miriam  happened  to  be  at  a  front  window,  and  regarded 
with  some  surprise  the  shabby  equipage.  It  came  with 
a  flourish  to  the  front  of  the  house,  and  stopped.  But 
instead  of  alighting,  its  occupant  seemed  to  be  expostu- 
lating with  the  driver.  Andy  shook  his  head  a  great 
deal,  but  finally  drove  round  at  the  back,  when  an 
elderly  woman  got  out,  and  came  to  the  hall  door. 
Miriam,  who  supposed,  of  course,  that  she  would  be 
wanted,  was  there  to  meet  her,  and  there  was  no  neces- 
sity for  ringing  or  knocking. 

"My  name,"  said  the  visitor,  "is  La  Fleur,  if  you 
please.  I  came  to  see  Mrs.  Drane  and  Miss  Drane,  if 
you  please.  Thank  you  very  much,  I  will  come  in.  I 
will  wait  here,  or,  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me 
where  I  can  find  Mrs.  Drane,  I  will  go  to  her.  I  used  to 
live  with  her  :  I  was  her  cook." 


"IT  couldn't  be  better  than  that"     243 

Miriam  had  been  gazing  with  much  interest  on  the 
puffy  face  and  shawl-enwrapped  body  of  the  old  woman 
who  addressed  her  with  a  smiling  obsequiousness  to 
which  she  was  not  at  all  accustomed. 

The  thought  struck  her  that  with  servants  like  this 
woman,  it  would  be  easy  to  feel  herself  a  mistress.  She 
had  heard  from  the  Dranes  a  great  deal  about  their 
famous  cook,  and  she  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  look 
upon  this  learned  professor  of  kitchen  lore. 

"What  would  she  have  said  to  my  tall  raspberry 
tarts  ?  "  involuntarily  thought  the  girl. 

But  it  was  when  La  Fleur  had  gone  to  Mrs.  Drane*s 
room,  and  Cicely,  wildly  delighted  when  informed  who 
had  come  to  see  them,  had  run  to  meet  the  dear  old 
woman,  that  Miriam  pondered  most  seriously  upon  this 
visit  from  a  cook.  She  had  not  known  anything  of  the 
ties  between  families  and  old  family  servants.  At  school, 
servants  had  been  no  more  than  machines ;  she  was  noth- 
ing to  them,  and  they  were  nothing  to  her ;  and  now  she 
felt  that  the  ignorance  of  these  ties  was  one  of  the  depri- 
vations of  her  life.  That  old  woman  upstairs  had  not 
lived  very  long  with  the  Dranes,  and  yet  she  regarded 
them  with  a  positive  affection.  Miriam  knew  this  from 
what  she  had  heard.  If  they  were  in  trouble,  and 
needed  her,  she  would  come  to  them  and  serve  them 
wherever  they  were.  This  she  had  told  them  often. 
How  different  was  such  a  woman  from  Phoebe  or  Molly 
Tooney!  How  happy  would  she  be  if  there  had  been 
such  a  one  in  her  mother's  family,  and  were  she  with  her 
now! 


244  THE  GIBL  AT  COBHURST 

"  But  I  have  only  Kalph,"  thought  Miriam ;  ^*  no  one 
else  in  the  world."  Ealph  was  good,  —  no  human  being 
could  be  better ;  but  he  was  only  one  person,  and  knew 
nothing  of  many  things  she  wanted  to  know,  and  could  not 
help  her  in  many  ways  in  which  she  needed  to  be  helped. 

With  a  feeling  that  from  certain  points  of  view  she 
was  rather  solitary  and  somewhat  forsaken,  she  went  to 
look  for  her  brother.  It  would  be  better  to  talk  to  what 
she  had  than  to  think  about  what  she  had  not. 

As  she  walked  toward  the  barn  and  pasture  fields, 
Kalph  came  up  from  the  cornfield  by  the  woods  on  the 
other  side  of  the  house.  As  he  went  in  he  met  Mrs. 
Drane  and  La  Fleur,  who  had  just  come  downstairs. 
Cicely  had  already  retired  to  her  work.  At  the  sight  of 
the  gentleman,  who,  she  was  informed,  was  the  master  of 
the  house,  La  Fleur  bowed  her  head,  cast  down  her  eyes, 
smiled  and  courtesied. 

Mrs.  Drane  drew  Ealph  aside. 

"  That  is  La  Fleur,  who  used  to  be  our  cook.  She  is 
a  kind  old  body,  who  takes  the  greatest  interest  in  our 
welfare.  She  is  greatly  pleased  to  find  us  in  such  de- 
lightful quarters,  but  she  has  queer  notions,  and  now  she 
wants  very  much  to  call  on  your  cook.  I  don't  know 
that  this  is  the  right  thing,  and  I  have  been  looking  for 
your  sister,  to  ask  her  if  she  objects  to  it,  but  I  think  she 
is  not  in  the  house." 

"  Oh,  bless  me ! "  exclaimed  Ealph,  "  she  will  not  mind 
in  the  least.  Let  the  good  woman  go  down  and  see 
Molly  Tooney,  and  if  she  can  give  her  some  points  about 
cooking,  I  am  sure  we  shall  all  be  delighted." 


"  IT  couldn't  be  better  than  that  "    245 

"  Oh,  she  would  not  do  that,"  said  Mrs.  Drane.  "  She 
is  a  very  considerate  person ;  but  I  suppose,  in  any  house, 
her  instincts  would  naturally  draw  her  toward  the  cook.'' 

When  Ralph  turned  to  La  Fleur,  and  assured  her  that 
his  sister  would  be  glad  to  have  her  visit  the  kitchen, 
the  old  woman,  who  had  not  taken  her  eyes  from  him 
for  an  instant,  thanked  him  with  great  unction,  again 
bowed,  courtesied,  smiled,  and,  being  shown  the  way  to 
the  kitchen,  descended. 

Molly  Tooney,  who  was  sitting  on  a  low  stool,  paring 
potatoes,  looked  up  in  amazement  at  the  person  who 
entered  her  kitchen.  It  was  not  an  obsequious  old 
woman  she  saw,  but  a  sedate,  dignified,  elderly  person, 
with  her  brows  somewhat  knitted.  Throwing  about  her 
a  glance,  which  was  not  one  of  admiration,  La  Fleur  re- 
marked, — 

"  I  suppose  you  are  the  cook  of  the  house." 

"  Indade,  an'  I  am,"  said  Molly,  still  upon  the  stool, 
with  a  knife  in  one  hand,  and  a  potato,  with  a  long 
paring  hanging  from  it,  in  the  other ;  "  an'  the  washer- 
woman, an'  the  chambermaid,  an'  the  butler,  too,  as 
loike  as  may  be.  An'  who  may  you  be,  an'  which  do  you 
want  to  see  ?  " 

"I  am  Madame  La  Fleur,"  said  the  other,  with  a 
stateliness  that  none  of  her  mistresses  ever  supposed 
that  she  possessed.  "I  came  to  see  Mrs.  Drane,  in 
whose  service  I  was  formerly  engaged,  and  I  wish  to 
know  for  myself  what  sort  of  a  person  was  cooking  for 
the  ladies  whose  meals  I  used  to  prepare." 

Molly  put  down  her  knife  and  her  half-pared  potato. 


246  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

and  arose.  She  liad  heard  of  La  Fleur,  whose  fame 
had  spread  through  and  about  Thorbury. 

"Sit  down,  mum,"  said  she.  "This  isn't  much  of  a 
kitchen,  for  I  haven't  had  time  to  clane  it  up,  an'  as  for 
me,  I'm  not  much  of  a  cook,  nather ;  for  when  ye  have  to 
be  iverything,  ye  can't  be  anything  to  no  great  ixtent." 

La  Fleur,  still  standing,  looked  at  her  severely. 

"  How  often  do  you  bake  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Three  times  a  week,"  answered  Molly,  lying. 

"The  ladies  upstairs,"  said  La  Fleur,  "have  been 
accustomed  to  fresh  rolls  every  morning  for  their  break- 
fast." 

"  An'  afther  this,  they  shall  have  'em,"  said  Molly, 
"Sundays  an'  weekday,  an'  sorry  I  am  that  I  didn't 
know  before  that  they  was  used  to  have  'em." 

"  How  do  you  make  your  coffee  ?  "  asked  La  Fleur. 

Molly  looked  at  her  hesitatingly. 

"I  am  very  keerful  about  that,"  she  said.  "I  niver 
let  it  bile  too  much  —  " 

"  Ugh !  "  exclaimed  La  Fleur,  raising  her  hand.  "  Tell 
your  mistress  to  get  you  a  French  coffee-pot,  and  if  you 
don't  know  how  to  use  it,  I'll  come  and  teach  you.  I 
shall  be  here  off  and  on  as  long  as  Mrs.  Drane  stops  in 
this  house."  And  then,  seating  herself.  La  Fleur  pro- 
ceeded to  put  Molly  through  an  elementary  domestic 
service  examination. 

"  Well,"  said  the  examiner,  when  she  had  finished,  "  I 
think  you  must  be  the  worst  cook  in  this  part  of  the 
country." 

"  No,  mum,  I'm  not,"  said  Molly.     "  There  was  one 


247 


here  afore  me,  a  nager  woman  named  Phoebe,  that  must 
have  been  worse,  from  what  I'm  told." 

"  Where  I  have  lived,"  said  La  Fleur,  "  they  have  such 
women  to  cook  for  the  farm  laborers." 

"Beggin'  your  pardon,  mum,"  said  Molly,  "that's 
what  they  are  here,  or  th'  same  thing.  Mr.  Haverley,  he 
works  on  the  farm  with  a  pitchfork,  jest  like  the  nager 
man." 

"Don't  talk  to  me  like  that!"  exclaimed  La  Fleur. 
"Mr.  Haverley  is  a  gentleman.  I  have  lived  enough 
among  gentlemen  to  know  them  when  I  see  them,  and 
they  can  work  and  they  can  play  and  they  can  do  what 
they  please,  and  they  are  gentlemen  still.  Don't  you 
ever  speak  that  way,  again,  of  your  master." 

"  I  thought  I  had  heard,  mum,"  said  Molly,  "  that  you 
looked  down  on  thradespeople  and  the  loike." 

"Tradespeople!"  said  the  other,  scornfully.  "A 
gentleman  farmer  is  very  different  from  a  person  in 
trade  ;  but  I  can't  expect  anything  better  from  a  woman 
who  boils  coffee,  and  never  heard  of  bouillon.  But  re- 
member the  things  I  have  told  you,  and  thank  your  stars 
that  a  cook  as  high  up  in  the  profession  as  I  am  is  will- 
ing to  tell  you  anything.  Are  you  the  only  servant  in 
this  house  ?  " 

"  There's  a  man  by  the  name  of  Mike,"  said  Molly,  "  a 
nager,  though  you  wouldn't  think  it  from  his  name. 
He  helps  me  sometimes,  an'  he  helps  iverybody  else 
other  times." 

"  Is  that  the  man  ?  "  said  La  Fleur,  looking  out  of  the 
window. 


248  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"That's  him,  mum,"  said  Molly;  "he's  jest  goin'  to 
the  woodpile  with  his  axe." 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  him,"  said  La  Fleur,  and  with  a 
very  slight  nod  of  the  head  she  left  the  kitchen  by  the 
door  that  led  into  the  grounds. 

Looking  after  her,  Molly  exclaimed,  — 

"Drat  you,  for  a  stuck-up,  cross-grained,  meddlin', 
bumble-bee-backed  old  hag  of  a  soup-slopper ;  to  come 
stickin'  yer  big  nose  into  other  people's  kitchens!  If 
there  was  a  rale  misthress  to  the  house  instead  of  the 
little  gal  upstairs,  you'd  be  rowled  down  the  front  steps 
afore  you'd  been  let  come  into  my  kitchen."  And  with 
this  she  returned  to  her  potatoes. 

La  Fleur  stopped  at  the  woodpile,  as  if  in  passing  she 
had  happened  to  notice  a  good  man  splitting  logs.  In 
her  blandest  voice  she  accosted  Mike  and  bade  him  good- 
day. 

"I  think  you  must  be  Michael,"  she  said.  "The 
cook  has  been  speaking  of  you  to  me.  My  name  is  La 
Fleur." 

Mike,  who  had  struck  his  axe  into  a  log,  touched  his 
flattened  hat. 

"  Yes,  mum,"  he  said ;  "  Mr.  Griffing  has  been  tellin' 
me  that.     Are  you  lookin'  for  any  of  the  folks  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  no,"  said  La  Fleur ;  "  I  am  just  walking  about 
to  see  a  little  of  this  beautiful  place.  You  don't  mind 
that,  do  you,  Michael?  You  keep  everything  in  such 
nice  order.  I  haven't  seen  your  garden,  but  I  know  it  is 
a  fine  one,  because  I  saw  some  of  the  vegetables  that  came 
out  of  it," 


"IT  couldn't  be  better  than  that"     249 

Mike  grinned.  "  I  reckon  it  ain't  the  same  kind  of  a 
garden  that  you've  been  used  to,  mum.  I've  heerd  that 
you  cooked  for  Queen  Victoria." 

"  Oh  no,  no,"  said  La  Fleur,  dropping  her  head  on  one 
side  so  that  her  smile  made  a  slight  angle  with  the  hori- 
zon; "I  never  cooked  for  the  queen,  no  indeed;  but  I 
have  lived  with  high  families,  lords,  ladies,  and  ambas- 
sadors, and  I  don't  remember  that  any  of  them  had 
better  potatoes  than  I  saw  to-day.  Is  this  a  large  farm, 
Michael?" 

"  It's  considerable  over  a  hiindred  acres,  though  I  don't 
'xactly  know  how  much.  Not  what  you'd  call  big,  and 
not  what  you'd  call  little." 

"  But  you  grow  beautiful  crops  on  it,  I  don't  doubt," 
remarked  La  Fleur. 

"  Can't  say  about  that,"  said  Mike,  shaking  his  head  a 
little.  "I  'spects  we'll  git  good  'nough  craps  for  what 
we  do  for  'em.  This  ain't  the  kind  of  farm  your  lords 
and  ladies  has  got.     It's  ramshackle,  you  know." 

"Ramshackle?"  repeated  La  Fleur.  "Is  that  a  sort 
of  sheep  farm  ?  " 

Mike  grinned.  "  Law,  no,  we  ain't  got  no  sheep,  and 
I'm  glad  of  it.  Ramshackle  farmin'  means  takin'  things 
as  you  find  'em,  an'  makin'  'em  do,  an'  what  you  git 
you've  got,  but  with  tother  kind  of  farmin'  most  times 
what  you  git,  ye  have  to  pay  out,  an'  then  you  ain't  got 
nuthin'." 

This  was  more  than  La  Fleur  could  comprehend,  but 
she  inferred  in  a  general  way  that  Mr.  Haverley's  fariji 
was  a  profitable  one., 


250  THE  GIRL   AT  COBHURST 

"  All  so  pretty,  so  pretty,"  she  said,  looking  from  side 
to  side ;  "  such  a  grand  barn,  and  such  broad  acres.  Is  it 
the  estate  as  far  as  I  can  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mum,"  said  Mike,  "  an'  a  good  deal  furder.  The 
woods  cuts  it  off  down  thataway." 

"It  is  a  lordly  place,"  said  La  Fleur,  "and  it  does  you 
honor,  Michael,  for  the  cook  told  me  you  were  Mr. 
Haverley's  head  man." 

"I  reckon  she's  about  right  there,"  said  Mike. 

"And  I  am  very  glad  indeed,"  continued  the  old 
woman,  "that  Mrs.  and  Miss  Drane  are  living  here. 
And  now,  Michael,  if  either  of  them  is  ever  taken  ill, 
and  you're  sent  for  the  doctor,  I  want  you  to  come 
straight  to  me,  and  I'll  see  that  he  goes  to  them.  If  you 
knock  at  the  back  door  of  the  kitchen,  I'll  hear  you, 
whether  I  am  awake  or  asleep.  And  when  you  are 
coming  to  town,  Michael,  you  must  drop  in  and  see 
me.  I  can  give  you  a  nice  bit  of  a  lunch,  any  day. 
I  daresay  you  like  good  things  to  eat  as  well  as  any- 
body." 

Mike  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  and  his  eyes  began  to 
brighten. 

"  Indeed  I  do,  mum,"  said  he.  "  If  I  was  to  carry  in 
a  punkin  to  you  when  they're  ripe,  I  wonder  if  you'd  be 
willin'  to  make  me  a  punkin  pie,  same  kind  as  Queen 
Victoria  has  in  the  fall  of  the  year." 

La  Fleur  beamed  on  him  most  graciously. 

"I  will  do  that  gladly,  Michael:  you  may  count  on 
me  to  do  that.  And  I  will  give  you  other  things  that 
you  like.    Wait  till  we  see,  wait  till  we  see.      Good-day, 


"IT  couldn't  be  better  than  that"     261 

Michael ;  I  must  be  going  now,  or  the  doctor  will  be  kept 
waiting  for  his  dinner.     Where's  my  cabby  ?  " 

"Mr.  Griffing  has  drove  round  to  the  front  of  the 
house,  mum,"  said  Mike. 

"Just  like  the  stupid  American,"  muttered  the  old 
woman  as  she  hurried  away,  "  as  if  I'd  get  in  at  the  front 
of  the  house." 

Andy  Griffing  talked  a  good  deal  on  the  drive  back  to 
Thorbury,  but  La  Fleur  heard  little  and  answered  less. 
She  was  in  a  state  of  great  mental  satisfaction,  and  dur- 
ing her  driver's  long  descriptions  of  persons  and  places, 
she  kept  saying  to  herself,  "It  couldn't  be  better  than 
that.     It  couldn't  be  better  than  that." 

This  mental  expression  she  applied  to  Mr.  Haverley, 
whom  she  considered  an  extraordinarily  fine-looking 
young  man;  to  the  broad  acres  and  fine  barn;  to  the 
fact  that  the  Dranes  were  living  with  him ;  to  the  prob- 
ability that  he  would  fall  in  love  with  the  charming 
Miss  Cicely,  and  make  her  mistress  of  the  estate ;  and  to 
the  strong  possibility,  that  should  this  thing  happen,  she 
herself  would  be  the  cook  of  Cobhurst,  and  help  her 
young  mistress  put  the  establishment  on  the  footing  that 
her  station  demanded. 

"  It  couldn't  be  better  than  that,"  she  muttered  over 
and  over  again  as  she  busied  herself  about  the  Tolbridge 
dinner,  and  she  even  repeated  the  expression  two  or 
three  times  after  she  went  to  bed. 


252  THE  GIEL  AT  COBHURST 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE   GAME   IS    CALLED 

In  her  notions  and  schemes  regarding  the  person  and 
estate  of  Ralph  Haverley,  the  good  cook,  La  Fleur, 
lacked  one  great  advantage  possessed  by  her  rival  plan- 
ner and  schemer  Miss  Panney ;  for  she  whose  cause  was 
espoused  by  the  latter  old  woman  was  herself  eager  for 
the  fray  and  desirous  of  victory,  whereas  Cicely  Drane 
had  not  yet  thought  of  marrying  anybody,  and  outside 
of  working  hours  was  devoting  herself  to  getting  all 
the  pleasure  she  could  out  of  life,  not  regarding  much 
whether  it  was  her  mother  or  Miriam  or  Mr.  Haverley 
who  helped  her  get  it.  Moreover,  the  advantages  of  co- 
residence,  which  La  Fleur  naturally  counted  upon,  were 
not  so  great  as  might  have  been  expected;  for  Mrs. 
Drane,  having  perceived  that  Ralph  was  fond  of  the 
society  of  young  ladies  to  a  degree  which  might  easily 
grow  beyond  her  ideas  of  decorous  companionship  be- 
tween a  gentleman  of  the  house  and  a  lady  boarder, 
gently  interfered  with  the  dual  apple  gatherings  and 
recreations  of  that  nature.  For  this,  had  she  been  aware 
of  it,  Dora  Bannister  would  have  been  most  grateful. 

Ralph  had  gone  twice  to  see  Congo,  and  to  talk  to 
Miss  Bannister  about  him,  but  he  had  not  taken  the  dog 
home.  Dora  said  she  would  take  him  to  Cobhurst  the 
first  time  she  drove  over  there  to  see  Miriam.  Congo 
would  follow  her  and  the  carriage  anywhere,  and  this 


THE  GAME  IS  CALLED  253 

would  be  so  much  pleasanter  than  to  have  him  forced 
away  like  a  prisoner. 

The  gig  shafts  had  now  been  repaired,  and  Ealph 
urged  Ms  sister  to  go  with  him  to  Thorbury  and  attend 
to  her  social  duties ;  but  Miriam  disliked  the  little  town 
and  loved  Cobhurst.  As  to  social  duties,  she  thought 
they  ought  to  be  attended  to,  of  course,  but  saw  no  need 
to  be  in  a  hurry  about  them ;  so  Ealph,  one  day,  having 
business  in  Thorbury,  prepared  to  go  in  again  by  him- 
self. He  had  been  lately  riding  Mrs.  Browning,  who 
was  still  his  only  available  horse  for  family  use;  but 
she  was  not  very  agreeable  under  the  saddle,  and  he 
now  proposed  to  take  the  gig.  He  had  thought  it  might 
be  a  good  idea  to  take  a  little  drive  out  of  the  town,  and 
see  if  Congo  would  follow  him.  Perhaps  Miss  Bannis- 
ter would  accompany  him,  for  she  was  very  anxious  that 
the  dog  should  become  used  to  Ealph  before  leaving  his 
present  home ;  and  her  presence  would  help  very  much 
in  teaching  the  animal  to  follow. 

But  although  Miriam  declined  to  go  with  her  brother, 
she  took  much  interest  in  his  expedition,  and  came  out 
to  the  barn  to  see  him  harness  Mrs.  Browning. 

"  Are  you  going  to  Dora  Bannister^s  again  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ealph ;  "  at  least  I  think  I  shall  stop  in 
to  see  the  dog.  You  know  the  oftener  I  do  that,  the 
better." 

"  I  think  it  is  a  shame,"  said  Miriam,  "  that  you  should 
be  driving  to  town  alone,  when  there  are  other  people 
who  wish  so  much  to  go,  and  you  have  no  use  at  all  for 
that  empty  seat." 


264  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  Who  wants  to  go  ?  "  asked  Ralph,  quickly. 

"Cicely  Drane  does.  She  has  got  into  trouble  over 
the  doctor's  manuscript,  and  says  she  can't  go  on 
properly  without  seeing  him.  She  has  been  expecting 
him  here  every  day,  but  it  seems  as  if  he  never  intended 
to  come.  She  asked  me  this  morning  how  far  it  was  to 
Thorbury,  and  I  think  she  intends  to  walk  in,  if  he  does 
not  come  to-day." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  this  before  ?  "  asked  Ralph. 
"I  would  have  sent  her  into  town  or  taken  her." 

"  I  had  not  formulated  it  in  my  mind,"  said  Miriam. 
"  Will  you  take  her  with  you  to-day  ?  I  know  that  she 
has  made  up  her  mind  she  cannot  wait  any  longer  for 
the  doctor  to  come." 

"  Of  course  I  will  take  her,"  said  Ralph.  "  Will  you 
ask  her  to  get  ready  ?  Tell  her  I  shall  be  at  the  door 
in  ten  or  fifteen  minutes." 

Ralph's  tone  was  perfectly  good-humored,  but  Miriam 
fancied  that  she  perceived  a  trace  of  disappointment  in 
it.  She  was  sorry  for  this,  for  she  could  not  imagine 
why  any  man  should  object  to  have  Cicely  Drane  as  a 
companion  on  a  drive,  unless  his  mind  was  entirely 
occupied  by  some  other  girl ;  and  if  Ralph's  mind  was 
thus  occupied,  it  must  be  by  Dora  Bannister,  and  that 
did  not  please  her.  So  she  resolutely  put  aside  all 
Cicely's  suggestions  that  it  might  be  inconvenient  for  Mr. 
Haverley  to  take  her  with  him,  and  deftly  overcame  Mrs. 
Drane's  one  or  two  impromptu,  and  therefore  not  very  well 
constructed,  objections  to  the  acceptance  of  the  invitation  j 
and  in  the  gig  Cicely  went  with  Ralph  to  Thorbury. 


THE  GAME  IS  CALLED  255 

After  having  left  the  secretary  to  attend  to  her  busi- 
ness at  the  doctor's  house,  Ralph  drove  to  the  Bannis- 
ter's J  but  Dora  would  not  see  him,  and  technically  was 
not  at  home.  Alas!  She  had  seen  him  driving  past 
with  Miss  Drane,  and  she  was  angry.  This  was  con- 
trary to  the  plan  of  action  she  had  adopted;  but  her 
eighteen-year-old  spirit  rebelled,  and  she  could  not  help 
it.  A  more  hideous  trap  than  that  old  gig  could  not  be 
imagined,  but  she  had  planned  a  drive  in  it  with  Ralph 
on  some  of  the  quiet  country  roads  beyond  Cobhurst. 
They  would  take  Congo  with  them,  and  that  would  be 
such  a  capital  plan  to  teach  the  dog  to  follow  his  new 
master.  And  now  it  was  the  Drane  girl  who  was  driv- 
ing with  him  in  his  gig.  She  could  not  go  down  and 
see  him  and  meet  him  in  the  way  she  liked  to  meet  him. 

Miss  Panney,  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  had 
been  passing  the  Tolbridge  house  at  the  moment  when 
Ralph  and  Cicely  drove  up.  She  stopped  for  a  moment, 
her  feelings  absolutely  outraged.  It  was  not  uncommon 
for  her  to  pass  places  at  times  when  people  were  doing 
things  in  those  places  which  she  thought  they  ought  not 
to  do ;  but  this  was  a  case  which  roused  her  anger  in  an 
unusual  manner.  Whatever  else  might  happen  at  Cob- 
hurst, she  did  not  believe  that  that  girl  would  begin  so 
soon  to  go  out  driving  with  him. 

She  had  left  her  phaeton  at  a  livery  stable,  and  was 
on  her  way  to  the  Bannister  house  to  have  a  talk  with 
Dora  on  a  subject  in  which  they  were  now  both  so 
much  interested.  She  had  been  very  much  surprised 
when  the  girl  had  come  to  her  and  freely  avowed  her 


256  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUEST 

feelings  and  hopes,  but  she  had  been  delighted.  She 
liked  a  spirit  of  that  sort,  and  it  was  a  joy  to  her  to 
work  with  one  who  possessed  it.  But  she  knew  human 
nature,  and  she  was  very  much  afraid  that  Dora's  pur- 
pose might  weaken.  It  was  quite  natural  that  a  young 
person,  in  a  moment  of  excitement  and  pique,  should 
figuratively  raise  her  sword  in  air  and  vow  a  vow ;  but 
it  was  also  quite  natural,  when  the  excitement  and  pique 
had  cooled  down,  that  the  young  person  should  experi- 
ence what  might  be  called  a  "  vow-fright,"  and  feel  un- 
able to  go  through  with  her  part.  In  a  case  such  as 
Dora's,  this  was  very  possible  indeed,  and  all  that  Miss 
Panney  had  planned  to  say  on  her  present  visit  was 
intended  to  inspire  the  girl,  if  it  should  be  needed,  with 
some  of  her  own  matured  inflexibility  and  fixedness  of 
purpose.  But  if  the  man  were  doing  this  sort  of  thing 
already  and  Dora  should  know  it,  she  would  have  a 
right  to  be  discouraged. 

Before  the  old  lady  reached  the  Bannisters'  gate,  she 
saw  Mr.  Haverley,  in  his  gig,  drive  away.  This  bright- 
ened her  up  a  little. 

"He  comes  here,  anyway,"  she  thought;  "what  a 
pity  Dora  is  not  in." 

Nevertheless,  she  went  on  to  the  Bannister  house; 
and  when  she  found  Dora  was  in,  she  began  to  scold 
her. 

"  This  will  never  do,  will  never  do,"  she  said.  "  Get 
angry  with  him  if  you  choose,  but  don't  show  it.  If 
you  do  that,  you  may  crush  him  too  low  or  bounce  him 
too  high,  and,  in  either  case,  he  may  be  off  before  you 


THE  GAME  IS  CALLED  267 

know  it.  It  is  too  early  in  tlie  game  to  show  him  that 
he  has  made  you  angry." 

"  But  if  he  doesn't  want  me,  I  don't  want  him,"  said 
Dora,  sulkily. 

"  If  you  think  that  way,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Panney, 
"you  may  as  well  make  up  your  mind  to  make  a  bad 
match,  or  die  an  old  maid.  The  right  man  very  seldom 
comes  of  his  own  accord ;  it  is  nearly  always  the  wrong 
one.  If  you  happen  to  meet  the  right  man,  you  should 
help  him  to  know  that  he  ought  to  come.  That  is  the 
way  to  look  at  it.  That  young  Haverley  does  not  know 
yet  who  it  is  that  he  cares  for.  He  is  just  floating 
along,  waiting  for  some  one  to  thrust  out  a  boat-hook 
and  pull  him  in." 

"  I  shall  marry  no  floating  log,"  said  Dora,  stiffly. 

The  old  lady  laughed. 

"  Perhaps  that  was  not  a  very  good  figure  of  speech," 
she  said ;  "  but  really,  my  dear,  you  must  not  interfere 
with  your  own  happiness  by  showing  temper ;  and  if  you 
look  at  the  affair  in  its  proper  light,  you  will  see  it  is 
not  so  bad,  after  all.  Ten  to  one,  he  brought  her  to 
town  because  she  wanted  to  come  with  him,  —  probably 
on  some  patched-up  errand  j  but  he  came  here  because 
he  wanted  to  come.  There  could  be  no  other  reason; 
and,  instead  of  being  angry  with  him,  you  should  have 
given  him  an  extraordinary  welcome.  For  the  very  rea- 
son that  she  has  so  many  advantages  over  you,  being  so 
much  with  him,  you  should  be  very  careful  to  make  use 
of  the  advantages  you  have  over  her.  And  your  advan- 
tages are  that  you  are  ten  times  better  fitted  to  be  his 


258  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

wife  than  site  is;  and  the  great  thing  necessary  to  be 
done  is  to  let  him  see  it.  But  her  chances  must  come 
to  an  end.  Those  Dranes  must  be  got  away  from  Cob- 
hurst." 

"I  don't  like  that  way  of  looking  at  it,"  said  Dora, 
leaning  back  in  her  chair,  with  a  sigh.  ^'  It's  the  same 
thing  as  fishing  for  a  man,  though  I  suppose  it  might 
have  been  well  to  see  him  when  he  came." 

Now  Miss  Panney  felt  encouraged;  her  patient  was 
showing  good  symptoms.  Let  her  keep  in  that  state 
of  mind,  and  she  would  see  that  the  lover  came.  She 
had  made  a  mistake  in  speaking  so  bluntly  about  get- 
ting the  Dranes  out  of  Cobhurst.  Although  she  would 
not  say  anything  more  to  Dora  about  that  important 
piece  of  work,  she  would  do  it  all  the  same. 

This  little  visit  had  been  an  important  one  to  Miss 
Panney;  it  had  enabled  her  to  understand  Dora's  char- 
acter much  better  than  she  had  understood  it  before; 
and  she  perceived  that  in  this  case  of  matchmaking 
she  must  not  only  do  a  great  deal  of  the  work  herself, 
but  she  must  do  it  without  Dora's  knowing  anything 
about  it.  She  liked  this,  for  she  was  not  much  given 
to  consulting  with  people. 

Miss  Panney  had  another  call  to  pay  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  she  had  intended,  for  form's  sake,  to  spend 
a  little  time  with  Mrs.  Bannister ;  but  she  did  neither. 
She  went  back  by  the  way  she  had  come,  wishing  to 
learn  all  she  could  about  the  movements  of  the  Cob- 
hurst gig. 

Approaching  the  Tolbridge  house,  she  saw  that  vehi- 


THE  GAME  IS  GALLED  259 

cle  standing  before  the  door,  with  the  sleepy  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing tied  to  a  post,  and  as  she  drew  nearer,  she  perceived 
Ralph  Haverley  sitting  alone  on  the  vine-shaded  piazza. 
The  old  lady  would  not  enter  the  Tolbridge  gate,  but 
she  stood  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  and  beckoned 
to  Ralph,  who,  as  soon  as  he  saw  her,  ran  over  to  her. 

Ralph  walked  a  little  way  with  Miss  Panney,  and 
after  answering  her  most  friendly  inquiries  about  Mir- 
iam, he  explained  how  he  happened  to  be  sitting  alone 
on  the  piazza;  the  doctor  and  Miss  Drane,  whom  he 
had  brought  to  town,  were  at  work  at  some  manu- 
script, and  he  had  preferred  to  wait  outside  instead  of 
indoors. 

"  I  called  on  Miss  Bannister,"  he  said,  "  but  she  was 
not  at  home,  so  I  came  back  here." 

"It  is  a  pity  she  was  out,"  said  Miss  Panney,  care- 
lessly, "  and  now  that  you  have  mentioned  Miss  Bannis- 
ter, I  would  like  to  ask  you  something ;  why  does  not 
your  sister  return  her  visits  ?  I  saw  Dora  not  very  long 
ago,  and  found  that  her  feelings  had  been  a  little  hurt  — 
not  much,  perhaps,  but  a  little  —  by  Miriam^s  apparent 
indifference  to  her.  Dora  is  a  very  sensitive  girl,  and 
is  slow  to  make  friends  among  other  girls.  I  never 
knew  any  friendship  so  quick  and  lively  as  that  she 
showed  for  Miriam.  You  know  that  Dora  is  still  young ; 
it  has  not  been  long  since  she  left  school ;  there  is  not 
a  girl  in  Thorbury  that  she  cares  anything  about,  and 
her  life  at  home  must  necessarily  be  a  lonely  one.  Her 
brother  is  busy,  even  in  the  evenings,  and  Mrs.  Bannis- 
ter is  no  companion  for  a  lively  young  girl." 


260  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHl^RST 

*^I  had  thought,"  said  Ralph,  "that  Miss  Bannister 
went  a  good  deal  into  society." 

"Oh,  no,"  answered  Miss  Panney;  "she  sometimes 
visits  her  relatives,  who  are  society  people ;  but  in  years 
and  disposition  she  is  too  young  for  that  sort  of  thing. 
Society  women  and  society  men  would  simply  bore  her. 
At  heart  she  is  a  true  country  girl,  and  I  think  it  was 
because  Miriam  had  country  tastes,  and  loved  that  sort 
of  life,  that  Dora's  affections  went  out  so  quickly  to  her. 
I  wish  your  sister  had  the  same  feelings  toward  her." 

"  Oh,  Miriam  likes  her  very  much,"  exclaimed  Ralph, 
"  and  is  always  delighted  to  see  her ;  but  my  little  sister 
is  wonderfully  fond  of  staying  at  home.  I  have  told 
her  over  and  over  again  that  she  ought  to  return  Miss 
Bannister's  calls." 

"  Make  her  do  it,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  It  is  her  duty, 
and  I  assure  you,  it  will  be  greatly  to  her  advantage. 
Miriam  is  a  most  lovely  girl,  but  her  character  has  not 
hardened  itself  into  what  it  is  going  to  be,  and  associar 
tion  with  a  thoroughbred  girl,  such  as  Dora  Bannister, 
admirably  educated,  who  has  seen  something  of  the 
world,  with  an  intelligence  and  wit  such  as  I  have  never 
known  in  any  one  of  her  age,  and  more  than  all  with  a 
soul  as  beautiful  as  her  face,  cannot  fail  to  be  an  inesti- 
mable benefit  to  your  sister.  What  Miriam  most  needs, 
at  this  stage  of  her  life,  is  proper  companionship  of  her 
own  age  and  sex." 

Ralph  assented.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  she  is  not  without 
that,  you  know.  Miss  Drane,  who  with  her  mother  now 
lives  with  us,  is  a  most  —  '^ 


THE  GAME  IS   CALLED  261 

Miss  Panney's  face  grew  very  hard. 

"  Excuse  me,"  slie  interrupted,  "  I  know  all  about  that. 
Of  course  the  Dranes  are  very  estimable  people,  and 
there  are  many  things,  especially  in  the  way  of  house- 
keeping, which  Mrs.  Drane  could  teach  Miriam,  if  she 
chose  to  take  the  trouble.  But  while  I  respect  the 
daughter's  efforts  to  support  herself  and  her  mother,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  she  is  a  working-girl  —  nothing 
more  or  less  —  and  must  continue  to  be  such.  Her  pres- 
ent business,  of  course,  can  only  last  for  a  little  while, 
and  she  will  have  to  adopt  some  regular  calling.  This 
life  she  expects,  and  is  preparing  herself  for  it.  But  a 
mind  such  as  hers  is,  or  must  speedily  become,  is  not 
the  one  from  which  Miriam's  young  mind  should  receive 
its  impressions.  The  two  will  move  in  very  different 
spheres,  and  neither  can  be  of  any  benefit  to  the  other. 
More  than  that  I  will  not  say;  but  I  will  say  that  your 
sister  can  never  find  any  friend  so  eager  to  love  her, 
and  so  willing  to  help  and  be  helped  by  her  in  so  many 
ways  in  which  girls  can  help  each  other,  as  my  dear 
Dora.  Now  bestir  yourself,  Mr.  Haverley,  and  make 
Miriam  look  at  this  thing  as  she  ought  to.  I  don't  pre- 
tend to  deny  that  I  have  spoken  to  you  very  much  for 
Dora's  sake,  for  whom  I  have  an  almost  motherly  feel- 
ing; but  you  should  act  for  your  sister's  sake.  And 
please  don't  forget  what  I  have  said,  young  man,  and 
give  Miriam  my  best  love." 

When  Ealph  walked  back  to  the  Tolbridge  piazza  he 
found  the  working-girl  sitting  there,  waiting  for  him. 
His  mind  was  not  in  an  altogether  satisfactory  condi' 


262  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

tionj  some  things  Miss  Panney  had  said  had  pleased 
and  even  excited  him,  but  there  were  other  things  that 
he  resented.  If  she  had  not  been  such  an  old  lady,  and 
if  she  had  not  talked  so  rapidly,  he  might  have  shown 
this  resentment.  But  he  had  not  done  so,  and  now  the 
more  he  thought  about  it,  the  stronger  the  feeling  grew. 

As  for  Cicely  Drane,  she  was  a  great  deal  more  quiet 
during  the  drive  home,  than  she  had  been  when  going 
to  Thorbury.  Her  mind  was  in  an  unsatisfactory  condi- 
tion, and  this  had  been  occasioned  by  an  interview  with 
La  Fleur,  who  had  waylaid  her  in  the  hall  as  she  came 
out  of  the  doctor's  office. 

The  good  cook  had  been  in  a  state  of  enthusiastic  de- 
light, since,  looking  out  of  the  kitchen  window  where 
she  had  been  sitting,  with  a  manuscript  book  of  recipes 
in  her  lap,  planning  the  luncheon  and  dinner,  she  had 
seen  the  lord  of  Cobhurst  drive  up  to  the  gate  with  dear 
Miss  Cicely.  It  was  a  joy  like  that  of  listening  to  a 
party  of  dinner  guests,  who  were  eating  her  favorite  ice. 
With  intense  impatience  she  had  awaited  the  appearance 
of  Cicely  from  the  doctor's  office ;  and,  having  drawn  her 
to  one  side,  she  hastily  imparted  her  sentiments. 

"  It's  a  shabby  gig.  Miss  Cicely,"  she  said,  "  such  as 
the  farmers  use  in  the  old  country,  but  it's  his  own,  and 
not  hired,  and  the  big  house  is  his  own,  and  all  the 
broad  acres.  And  he's  a  gentleman  from  head  to  heel, 
living  on  his  own  estate,  and  as  fine  a  built  man  as  ever 
rode  in  the  Queen's  army.  Oh,  Miss  Cicely,  your  star  is 
at  the  top  of  the  heavens  this  time,  and  I  want  you  to 
let  me  know  if  there  is  anything  you  want  in  the  way  of 


HYPOTHESIS  AND  INNUENDO  263 

hats  or  wraps  or  clothes,  or  anything  of  that  kind.  It 
doesn't  make  the  least  difference  to  me,  you  know,  just 
now,  and  we'll  settle  it  all  after  a  while.  It  is  the  Chris- 
tian duty  for  every  young  lady  to  look  the  smartest, 
especially  at  a  time  like  this." 

Cicely,  her  face  flushed,  drew  herself  away. 

"  La  Fleur,"  she  said,  speaking  quickly  and  in  a  low 
voice,  "  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself."  And  she 
hurried  away,  fearing  that  Mr.  Haverley  was  waiting  for 
her. 

La  Fleur  was  not  a  bit  ashamed  of  herself;  she 
chuckled  as  she  went  back  to  the  kitchen. 

"  She's  a  young  thing  of  brains  and  beauty,"  said  she 
to  herself,  "  and  I  don't  doubt  that  she  had  the  notion  in 
her  own  mind.  But  if  it  wasn't  there,  I  have  put  it 
there,  and  if  it  was  there,  I've  dished  it  and  dressed  it, 
and  it  will  be  like  another  thing  to  her.  As  for  the  rest 
of  it,  he'll  attend  to  that.  I  haven't  a  doubt  that  he  is 
the  curly-headed,  brave  fellow  to  do  that ;  and  I'll  find 
out  from  her  mother  if  she  needs  anything,  and  not  hurt 
her  pride  neither." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

HYPOTHESIS    AND    INNUENDO 

Tt)  say  that  Cicely  Drane  had  not  thought  of  Ralph 
Haverley  as  an  exceedingly  agreeable  young  man  would 
be  an  injustice  to  her  young  womanly  nature,  but  it 
would  be  quite  correct  to  state  that  she  had  not  thought 


264  THE  GIRL   AT  COBHURST 

him  a  whit  more  agreeable  than  Miriam.  She  was 
charmed  with  them  both ;  they  had  taken  her  into  their 
home  circle  as  if  they  had  adopted  her  as  a  sister.  It 
was  not  until  her  mother  began  to  put  a  gentle  pressure 
upon  her  in  order  to  prevent  her  gathering  too  many 
apples,  and  joining  in  too  many  other  rural  recreations 
with  Mr.  Haverley,  that  she  thought  of  him  as  one  who 
was  not  to  be  considered  in  the  light  of  a  brother. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  that  she  would  have  come 
to  the  same  conclusion  if  left  to  herself,  but  she  would 
not  have  reached  it  so  soon. 

But  the  effect  that  her  mother's  precautionary  disposi- 
tion had  had  upon  her  was  nothing  compared  to  that 
produced  by  the  words  of  La  Fleur.  For  the  first  time 
she  looked  upon  Ealph  as  one  on  whom  other  persons 
looked  as  her  lover,  and  to  sit  by  the  side  of  the  said 
young  man,  immediately  after  being  informed  of  said 
fact,  was  not  conducive  to  a  free  and  tranquil  flow  of 
remark. 

Her  own  sentiments  on  the  subject,  so  far  as  she  had 
put  them  into  shape,  —  and  it  was  quite  natural  that  she 
should  immediately  begin  to  do  this,  —  were  neither 
embarrassing  nor  disagreeable.  She  liked  him  very 
much,  and  there  was  no  reason  why  she  should  object 
to  his  liking  her  very  much,  and  if  they  should  ever  do 
more  than  this,  she  should  not  be  ashamed  of  it,  and  per- 
haps should  be  glad  of  it.  But  she  was  sorry  that  before 
either  of  them  had  thought  of  this,  some  one  else  should 
have  done  so. 

This  might  prove  to  be  embarrassing,  and  the  only 


HYPOTHESIS  AND  INNUENDO  265 

comfort  she  could  give  herself  was  that  La  Fleur  was 
such  an  affectionate  old  body,  always  talking  of  some 
bit  of  good  fortune  for  her,  that  if  she  had  seen  her  in 
company  with  a  king  or  an  emperor,  she  would  immedi- 
ately set  herself  to  find  some  sort  of  throne-covering 
which  would  suit  her  hair  and  complexion. 

The  definite  result  of  her  reflections,  made  between 
desultory  questions  and  answers,  was  that  she  regarded 
the  young  gentleman  by  her  side  in  a  light  very  different 
from  that  in  which  she  had  viewed  him  before  she  had 
met  La  Fleur  in  the  doctor's  hall.  It  was  not  that  she 
looked  upon  him  as  a  possible  lover  —  she  had  sense 
enough  to  know  that  almost  any  man  might  be  that  — 
he  was  a  hypothetic  lover,  and  in  view  of  the  assump- 
tion it  behooved  her  to  give  careful  observation  to  every- 
thing in  him,  herself,  or  others,  which  might  bear  upon 
the  ensuing  argument. 

As  for  Ralph,  it  angered  him  to  look  at  the  young 
lady  by  his  side,  who  was  as  handsome,  as  well  edu- 
cated and  cultured,  as  tastefully  dressed,  as  intelligent 
and  witty,  of  as  gentle,  kind,  and  winning  a  disposition, 
and,  judging  from  what  the  doctor  had  told  him  when  he 
first  spoke  of  the  Dranes,  of  as  good  blood,  family,  and 
position,  as  any  one  within  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance, 
and  then  to  remember  that  she  had  been  called  a  work- 
ing-girl, and  spoken  of  in  a  manner  that  was  almost 
contemptuous. 

Ralph  always  took  the  side  of  the  man  who  was  down, 
and,  consequently,  very  often  put  himself  on  the  wrong 
side  J  and  although  he  did  not  consider  that  Miss  Prane 


266  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

was  down,  he  saw  that  Miss  Panney  had  tried  to  put  her 
down,  and  therefore  he  became  her  champion. 

"There  could  not  be  any  one,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  better  fitted  to  be  the  friend  and  companion  of  Miriam 
than  Cicely  Drane  is,  and  the  next  time  I  see  that  old 
lady,  I  shall  tell  her  so.  I  have  nothing  to  say  against 
Miss  Bannister,  but  I  shall  stand  up  for  this  one." 

And  now,  feeling  that  it  was  not  polite  to  treat  a 
young  lady  with  seeming  inattention,  because  he  hap- 
pened to  be  earnestly  thinking  about  her,  he  began  to 
talk  to  Cicely  in  his  liveliest  and  gayest  manner,  and 
she,  not  wishing  him  to  think  that  she  thought  that 
there  was  anything  out  of  the  way  in  this,  or  in  his  pre- 
vious preoccupation,  responded  just  as  gayly. 

Ralph  delivered  Miss  Panney's  message  to  his  sister, 
and  Miriam,  giving  much  more  weight  to  the  advice  and 
opinion  of  the  old  lady,  whom  she  knew  very  slightly 
and  cared  for  very  little,  than  to  that  of  her  brother, 
whom  she  loved  dearly,  said  she  would  go  to  see  Miss 
Bannister  the  next  afternoon  if  it  happened  to  be  clear. 

It  was  clear,  and  she  went,  and  Ealph  drove  her  there 
in  the  gig,  and  Dora  was  overwhelmed  with  joy  to  see 
her,  and  scolded  Ealph  in  the  most  charming  way  for 
not  bringing  her  before ;  Miriam  was  taken  to  see  Congo, 
because  Dora  wanted  her  to  begin  to  love  him,  and  they 
were  shown  into  the  library,  because  Dora  said  that  she 
knew  they  both  loved  books,  and  her  father  had  gathered 
together  so  many.  In  ten  minutes,  Miriam  was  in  the 
window  seat,  dipping,  which  ended  in  her  swimming,  far 
beyond  her   deptlx  in  Don  Quixote,  which  she  had  so 


HYPOTHESIS   AND   INNUENDO  267 

often  read  of  and  never  seen,  and  Dora  and  Ralph  sat, 
heads  together,  over  a  portfolio  of  photographs  of  foreign 
places  where  the  Bannisters  had  been. 

There  were  very  few  books  at  Cobhurst,  and  Miriam 
had  read  all  of  them  she  cared  for,  and  consequently  it 
was  an  absorbing  delight  to  follow  the  adventures  of  the 
Knight  of  La  Mancha. 

Ralph  had  not  travelled  in  Europe,  and  there  were 
very  few  pictures  at  Cobhurst,  and  he  was  greatly  inter- 
ested in  the  photographs,  but  this  interest  soon  waned 
in  the  increasing  delight  of  having  Dora  seated  so  close 
to  him,  of  seeing  her  fair  fingers  point  out  the  things  he 
should  look  at,  and  listening  to  her  sweet  voice,  as  she 
talked  to  him  about  the  scenes  and  buildings.  There 
was  an  element  of  gentle  and  sympathetic  interest  in 
Dora's  manner,  which  reminded  him  of  her  visit  to 
Cobhurst,  and  the  good-night  on  the  stairs,  and  this 
had  a  very  charming  effect  upon  Ralph,  and  made  him 
wish  that  the  portfolio  were  at  least  double  its  actual 
size. 

The  Haverleys  stayed  so  long  that  Mrs.  Bannister, 
upstairs,  began  to  be  nervous,  and  wondered  if  Dora 
had  asked  those  young  people  to  remain  to  tea. 

On  the  way  home  Ralph  was  in  unusually  good  spirits, 
and  talked  much  about  Dora.  She  must  have  seen  a 
great  deal  of  the  world,  he  said,  for  one  so  young,  and 
she  talked  in  such  an  interesting  and  appreciative  way 
about  what  she  had  seen,  that  he  felt  almost  as  if  he 
had  been  to  the  places  himself. 

With  this  for  a  text,  he  dilated  upon  the  subject  of 


268  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

Dora  and  foreign  travel,  but  Miriam  was  not  a  respon- 
sive hearer. 

"I  wish  you  knew  Mr.  Bannister  better,"  she  said 
in  a  pause  in  her  brother^s  remarks.  "He  must  have 
been  everywhere  that  his  sister  has  been,  and  probably 
saw  a  great  deal  more." 

"No  doubt,"  said  Ralph,  carelessly,  "and  probably 
has  forgotten  most  of  it;  men  generally  do  that.  A 
girl's  mind  is  not  crammed  with  business  and  all  that 
sort  of  stuff,  and  she  can  keep  it  free  for  things  that 
are  worth  remembering." 

Miriam  did  not  immediately  answer,  but  presently 
she  said,  speaking  with  a  certain  air  of  severity :  — 

"If  my  soul  ached  for  the  company  of  anybody  as 
Miss  Panney  told  you  Dora  Bannister's  soul  ached  for 
my  company,  I  think  I  should  have  a  little  more  to 
say  to  her  when  she  came  to  see  me,  than  Dora  Ban- 
nister had  to  say  to  me  to-day." 

"My  dear  child!"  exclaimed  Ealph,  "that  was  be- 
cause you  were  so  busy  with  your  book.  She  saw  you 
were  completely  wrapped  up  in  it,  and  so  let  you  take 
your  own  pleasure  in  your  own  way.  I  think  that  is 
one  of  her  good  points.  She  tries  to  find  out  what 
pleases  people." 

"Bother  her  good  points!"  snapped  Miriam.  "You 
will  make  a  regular  porcupine  of  her  if  you  keep  on. 
I  wish  Mr.  Bannister  had  given  you  the  dog." 

Ralph  was  very  much  disturbed;  it  was  seldom  that 
his  sister  snapped  at  him.  He  could  see,  now  that  he 
considered  the  matter,  that  Miriam  had  been  somewhat 


HYPOTHESIS  AND  INNUENDO  260 

neglected.  She  was  young  and  a  little  touchy,  and 
this  ought  to  be  considered.  He  thought  it  might  be 
well,  the  next  time  he  saw  Miss  Bannister  by  herself, 
to  explain  this  to  her.  He  believed  he  could  do  it 
without  making  it  appear  a  matter  of  any  great  im- 
portance. It  was  important,  however,  for  he  should  very 
much  dislike  to  see  ill  will  grow  up  between  Miriam 
and  Miss  Bannister.  What  Miss  Panney  had  said 
about  this  young  lady  was  very,  very  true,  although, 
of  course,  it  did  not  follow  that  any  one  else  need  be 
disparaged. 

Early  in  the  forenoon  of  the  next  day.  Miss  Panney 
drove  to  Cobhurst.  She  had  come,  she  informed  Miriam, 
not  only  to  see  her,  dear  girl,  but  to  make  a  formal  call 
upon  the  Dranes. 

The  call  was  very  formal ;  Miss  Drane  left  her  work 
to  meet  the  visitor,  but  having  been  loftily  set  aside 
by  that  lady  during  a  stiff  conversation  with  her  mother 
about  old  residents  in  the  neighborhood  in  which  they 
had  lived,  she  excused  herself,  after  a  time,  and  went 
back  to  her  table  and  her  manuscripts. 

Then  Miss  Panney  changed  the  conversational  scene, 
and  began  to  talk  about  Thorbury. 

"I  do  not  know,  madam,"  she  said,  "that  you  are 
aware  that  I  was  the  cause  of  your  coming  to  this 
neighborhood." 

Mrs.  Drane  was  a  quiet  lady,  and  the  previous  remarks 
of  her  visitor  had  been  calculated  to  render  her  more 
quiet,  but  this  roused  her. 

"I  certainly  did  not,"  she  said.     "We  came  on  the 


270  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

invitation  and  through  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Tolbridge, 
my  old  friend.'' 

"Yes,  yes,  yes,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "that  is  all  true 
enough,  but  I  told  him  to  send  for  you.  In  fact,  I 
insisted  upon  it.  I  did  it,  of  course,  for  his  sake ;  for 
I  knew  that  the  arrangement  would  be  of  advantage 
to  him  in  various  ways,  but  I  was  also  glad  to  be  of 
service  to  your  daughter,  of  whom  I  had  heard  a  good 
report.  Furthermore,  I  interested  myself  very  much 
in  getting  you  lodgings,  and  found  you  a  home  at  Mrs. 
Brinkly's  that  I  hoped  you  would  like.  If  I  had  not 
done  so,  I  think  you  would  have  been  obliged  to  go  to 
the  hotel,  which  is  not  pleasant  and  much  more  expen- 
sive than  a  private  house.  I  do  not  mention  these 
things,  madam,  because  I  wish  to  be  thanked,  or  any- 
thing of  that  sort ;  far  from  it.  I  did  what  I  did  be- 
cause I  thought  it  was  right ;  but  I  must  admit,  if  you 
will  excuse  my  mentioning  it,  that  I  was  surprised,  to 
say  the  least,  that  I  was  not  consulted,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  on  the  occasion  of  your  leaving  the  home  I  had 
secured  for  you." 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Drane,  "that  I  should 
appear  to  have  been  discourteous  to  one  who  had  done  us 
a  service,  for  which,  I  assure  you,  we  are  both  very  much 
obliged,  but  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Tolbridge  managed  the  whole 
affair  of  our  removal  from  Mrs.  Brinkly's  house,  and  I 
did  not  suppose  there  was  any  one,  besides  them  and 
ourselves,  who  would  take  the  slightest  interest  in  the 
matter." 

"  Oh,  I  find  no  fault,"  said  Miss  Panney.     "  It  is  not 


HYPOTHESIS   AND   INNUENDO  271 

an  affair  of  importance,  but  I  think  you  will  agree, 
madam,  that  after  the  interest  I  had  shown  in  procuring 
you  suitable  accommodation,  I  might  have  been  spared 
what  some  people  might  consider  the  mortification  of 
being  told,  when  I  stated  to  Mrs.  Tolbridge  that  I 
intended  to  call  upon  you,  that  you  were  not  then  living 
with  the  lady  whose  consent  to  receive  you  into  her 
family  I  had  obtained,  after  a  great  deal  of  personal 
solicitation  and  several  visits." 

Upon  this  presentation  of  the  matter,  Mrs.  Drane 
could  not  help  thinking  that  the  old  lady  had  been 
treated  somewhat  uncivilly,  and  expressed  her  regret  in 
the  most  suitable  terms  she  could  think  of,  adding  that 
she  was  sure  that  Miss  Panney  would  agree  that  the 
change  had  been  an  excellent  one. 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Miss  Panney.  "For  a 
temporary  country  residence,  I  suppose  you  could  not 
have  found  a  better  spot,  though  it  must  be  a  long  walk 
for  your  daughter  when  she  goes  to  submit  her  work  to 
Dr.  Tolbridge." 

"That  has  not  yet  been  necessary,"  said  Mrs.  Drane; 
"Mr.  Haverley  is  very  kind — " 

At  this  point  Miss  Panney  rose.  She  had  said  all  she 
wanted  to  say,  and  to  decline  to  hear  anything  about 
Kalph  Haverley's  having  been  seen  driving  about  with  a 
young  woman  who  had  been  engaged  as  Dr.  Tolbridge's 
secretary,  was  much  better  than  speaking  of  it,  and  she 
took  her  leave  with  a  prim  politeness. 

Mrs.  Drane  was  left  in  an  uncomfortable  state  of 
mind.     It  was  not  pleasant  to  be  reminded  that  this 


272  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHITRST 

delightful  country  house  was  only  a  temporary  home, 
for  that  implied  a  return  to  Thorbury,  a  town  she  dis- 
liked ;  and  although  she  had,  of  course,  expected  to  go 
back  there,  she  had  not  allowed  the  matter  to  dwell  in 
her  mind  at  all,  putting  it  into  the  future,  without  con- 
sideration, as  she  liked  to  do  with  things  that  were 
unpleasant. 

Moreover,  there  was  something,  she  could  not  tell 
exactly  what,  about  Miss  Panney's  words  and  manner, 
which  put  an  unsatisfactory  aspect  upon  the  obvious 
methods  of  Cicely's  communications  with  her  employer. 

Mrs.  Drane's  mind  had  already  been  slightly  disturbed 
on  this  subject,  but  Miss  Panney  had  revived  and  greatly 
increased  the  disturbance. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

A   CONFIDENTIAL   ANNOUNCEMENT 

Having  finished  her  visit  of  ceremony.  Miss  Panney 
asked  permission  of  Miriam  to  see  Molly  Tooney.  That 
woman  was,  in  a  measure,  her  protege,  and  she  had  some 
little  business  with  her.  Declining  to  have  the  cook 
sent  for.  Miss  Panney  descended  to  the  kitchen. 

She  had  not  talked  with  Molly  more  than  five  minutes, 
and  had  not  approached  the  real  subject  of  the  interview, 
which  concerned  the  social  relations  between  the  Haver- 
leys  and  the  Dranes,  when  the  Irishwoman  lifted  up  her 
hands,  and  opened  wide  her  eyes. 


A  CONFIDENTIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  273 

"The  Saints  an'  the  Sinners!"  she  exclaimed,  "if 
here  isn't  that  auld  drab  of  a  sausage,  that  cook  of  the 
docther's,  a  comin'  here  again  to  tell  me  how  to  cook  for 
them  Dranes.  Bad  luck  to  them,  they  don't  pay  me 
nothin',  an'  only  give  me  trouble." 

Miss  Panney  turned  quickly,  and  through  the  window 
she  saw  La  Fleur  approaching  the  kitchen  door. 

"She  comes  here  to  tell  you  how  to  cook  for  those 
people  ?  "  said  Miss  Panney,  quickly. 

"  Indade  she  does,  an'  it's  none  of  her  business,  nather, 
the  meddlin'  auld  porpoise." 

"  Molly,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "  go  away  and  leave  me 
here.     I  want  to  talk  to  this  woman." 

"Which  is  more  than  I  do,"  said  the  cook,  and 
straightway  departed  to  the  floor  above. 

La  Fleur  had  come  to  see  Mrs.  Drane,  but  perceiving 
Miss  Panney's  phaeton  at  the  door,  she  had  concluded 
that  there  was  company  in  the  house,  and  had  con- 
sequently betaken  herself  to  the  kitchen  to  make  in- 
quiries. When  she  found  there  Miss  Panney,  instead  of 
Molly  Tooney,  La  Fleur  was  surprised,  but  pleased,  for 
she  remembered  the  old  lady  as  one  who  appreciated 
good  cookery  and  a  good  cook. 

"How  do  you  do.  La  Fleur,"  said  Miss  Panney.  "I 
am  glad  to  see  you.  I  suppose  you  still  keep  up  your 
old  interest  in  Mrs.  Drane  and  her  daughter.  Do  you 
often  find  time  to  come  out  here  to  see  them  ?  " 

"Not  often,  madam,  but  sometimes.  I  can  always 
find  time  for  what  I  really  want  to  do.  If  I  like  to  be 
away  for  an  hour  or  two,  I'll  sit  up  late  the  night  before, 


274  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

long  after  midnight  sometimes,  planning  the  meals  and 
the  courses  for  the  next  day,  and  when  I  go  away,  I  leave 
everything  so  that  I  can  take  it  right  up,  the  minute  I 
get  back,  and  lose  nothing  in  time  or  in  any  other  way." 

"  It  is  only  a  born  chef  who  could  do  that,"  said  Miss 
Panney,  "and  it  is  very  pleasant  to  see  your  affection 
for  your  former  employers.  Do  you  suppose  that  they 
will  remain  here  much  longer  ?  " 

"  Remain ! "  exclaimed  La  Fleur ;  "  they Ve  never  said 
a  word  to  me,  madam,  about  going  away,  and  I  don^t 
believe  they  have  thought  of  it.     I  am  sure  I  haven't." 

Miss  Panney  shook  her  head. 

"  It's  none  of  my  business,"  she  said,  "  but  IVe  lived 
a  long  time  in  this  world,  and  that  gives  me  a  right  to 
speak  my  mind  to  people  who  haven't  lived  so  long.  It 
may  have  been  all  very  well  for  the  Dranes  to  have  come 
here  for  a  little  vacation  of  a  week  or  ten  days,  but  to 
stay  on  and  on  is  not  the  proper  thing  at  all,  and  if  you 
really  have  a  regard  for  them.  La  Fleur,  I  think  it  is 
your  duty  to  make  them  understand  this.  You  might 
not  care  to  speak  plainly,  of  course,  but  you  can  easily 
make  them  perceive  the  situation,  without  offending 
them,  or  saying  anything  which  an  old  servant  might 
not  say,  in  a  case  like  this." 

"  But,  madam,"  said  La  Fleur,  "  what's  to  hinder  their 
stopping  here  ?  There's  no  spot  on  earth  that  could  suit 
them  better,  to  my  way  of  thinking." 

"La  Fleur,"  said  Miss  Panney,  regarding  the  other 
with  moderate  severity,  "  you  ought  to  know  that  when 
people  see  a  young  woman  like  Miss  Drane  brought  to 


A  CONFIDENTIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  275 

live  in  a  house  with  a  handsome  young  gentleman,  who, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  is  keeping  a  bachelor's  hall, 
—  for  that  girl  upstairs  is  entirely  too  young  to  be  con- 
sidered a  mistress  of  a  house, —  and  when  they  know  that 
the  young  lady's  mother  is  a  lady  in  impoverished  cir- 
cumstances, the  people  are  bound  to  say,  when  they  talk, 
that  that  young  woman  was  brought  here  on  purpose  to 
catch  the  master  of  the  house,  and  I  don't  think.  La 
Fleur,  that  you  would  like  to  hear  that  said  of  Mrs. 
Drane." 

As  she  listened,  the  bodily  eyes  of  La  Fleur  were  con- 
tracted until  they  were  almost  shut,  but  her  mental  eyes 
opened  wider  and  wider.  She  suspected  that  there  was 
something  back  of  Miss  Panney's  words. 

"  If  I  heard  anybody  say  that,  madam,  meaning  it,  I 
don't  think  they  would  care  to  say  it  to  me  again.  But 
leaving  out  all  that  and  looking  at  the  matter  with  my 
lights,  it  does  seem  to  me  that  if  Mr.  Haverley  wanted  a 
mistress  for  his  house,  and  felt  inclined  to  marry  Miss 
Cicely  Drane,  he  couldn't  make  a  better  choice." 

"  Choice  ! "  repeated  Miss  Panney,  sarcastically.  "  He 
has  no  choice  to  make.  That  is  settled,  and  that  is  the 
very  reason  why  people  will  talk  the  more  and  sharper, 
and  nothing  you  can  say.  Madam  Jane  La  Fleur,  will 
stop  them.  Not  only  does  this  look  like  a  scheme  to 
marry  Mr.  Haverley  to  a  girl  who  can  bring  him  nothing, 
but  to  break  off  a  most  advantageous  match  with  a  lady 
who,  in  social  position,  wealth,  and  in  every  way,  stands 
second  to  no  one  in  this  county." 

"  And  who  may  that  be,  please  ?  "  asked  La  Fleur. 


276  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

Miss  Panney  hesitated.  It  would  be  a  bold  thing  to 
give  the  answer  that  was  on  her  tongue,  but  she  was  no 
coward,  and  this  was  a  crisis  of  importance.  A  proper 
impression  made  upon  this  woman  might  be  productive 
of  more  good  results  than  if  made  upon  any  one  else. 

"  It  is  Miss  Dora  Bannister,"  she  said,  "  and  of  course 
you  know  all  about  the  Bannister  family.  I  tell  you 
this,  because  I  consider  that,  under  the  circumstances, 
you  ought  to  know  it,  but  I  expect  you  to  mention  it  to 
no  one,  for  the  matter  has  not  been  formally  announced. 
Now,  I  am  sure  that  a  woman  of  your  sense  can  easily 
see  what  the  friends  of  Mr.  Haverley,  who  know  all 
about  the  state  of  affairs,  will  think  and  say  when  they 
see  Mrs.  Drane's  attempt  to  get  for  her  daughter  what 
rightfully  belongs  to  another  person." 

If  it  had  appeared  to  the  mind  of  La  Fleur  that  it  was 
a  dreadful  thing  to  get  for  one's  daughter  a  lifelong  ad- 
vantage which  happened  to  belong  to  another,  she  might 
have  greatly  resented  this  imputation  against  Mrs.  Drane. 
But  as  she  should  not  have  hesitated  to  try  and  obtain 
said  advantage,  if  there  was  any  chance  of  doing  it,  the 
imputation  lost  force.  She  did  not,  therefore,  get  angry, 
but  merely  asked,  wishing  to  get  as  deep  into  the  matter 
as  possible,  "  And  then  it  is  all  settled  that  he's  to  marry 
Miss  Bannister  ?  " 

"  Everything  is  not  yet  arranged,  of  course,"  said  Miss 
Panney,  speaking  rapidly,  for  she  heard  approaching 
footsteps,  "  and  you  are  not  to  say  anything  about  all  this 
or  mention  me  in  connection  with  it.  I  only  spoke  to 
you  for  the  sake  of  the  Dranes.  It  is  your  duty  to  get 
them  away  from  here." 


A   CONFIDENTIAL   ANNOUNCEMENT  277 

She  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  when  Miriam  en- 
tered the  kitchen.  La  Fleur  had  seen  her  before,  but  on 
her  previous  visit  it  had  been  Ralph  who  had  given  her 
permission  to  interview  Molly  Tooney,  and  she  had  then 
thought  little  of  Miriam.  La  Fleur's  long  years  of  ser- 
vice had  given  her  many  opportunities  of  studying  the 
characters  of  mistresses,  in  high  life  as  well  as  middle 
life,  but  never  had  she  seen  a  mistress  like  this  school- 
girl, with  her  hair  hanging  down  her  back. 

Miriam  advanced  toward  La  Fleur. 

"My  cook  told  me  that  you  were  here,  and  I  came 
down,  thinking  that  you  might  want  to  see  me." 

"  This  is  Madam  La  Fleur,"  interpolated  Miss  Panney, 
"  the  celebrated  chef  who  cooks  for  Dr.  Tolbridge.  She 
came,  I  think,  to  see  Mrs.  Drane." 

"Not  altogether.  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  said  La  Fleur, 
humbly  smiling  and  bowing,  with  her  eyes  downcast  and 
her  head  on  one  side.  "I  wished,  very  much,  also,  to 
pay  my  respects  to  Miss  Haverley.  I  am  only  a  cook, 
and  I  am  much  obliged  to  this  good  lady  —  Miss  Panic,  I 
think  is  the  name  —  " 

"  Panney,"  sharply  interpolated  the  old  lady. 

"  Beg  pardon,  I  am  sure.  Miss  Panney  —  for  what  she 
has  said  about  me ;  but  when  I  come  to  pay  my  respects 
to  Mrs.  Drane,  I  wish  to  do  the  same  to  the  lady  of  the 
house." 

There  was  a  gravity  and  sedateness  in  Miriam's  coun- 
tenance, which  was  not  at  all  school-girlish,  and  which 
pleased  La  Fleur  j  in  her  eyes  it  gave  the  girl  an  air  of 
distinction. 


278  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Miriam,  and  turned  to 
Miss  Panney,  as  if  wondering  at  that  lady's  continued 
stay  in  the  kitchen.     Miss  Panney  understood  the  look. 

"I  am  getting  points  from  La  Fleur,  my  dear,"  she 
said,  "  cooking  points,  —  you  ought  to  do  that.  She  can 
give  you  the  most  wonderful  information  about  things 
you  ought  to  know.  Now,  La  Fleur,  as  you  want  to  see 
Mrs.  Drane,  and  it  is  time  I  had  started  for  home,  it  will 
be  well  for  us  to  go  upstairs  and  leave  the  kitchen  to 
Molly  Tooney." 

Miss  Panney  was  half  way  up  the  stairs  when  La  Fleur 
detained  Miriam  by  a  touch  on  the  arm. 

"I  will  give  you  all  the  points  you  want,  my  dear 
young  lady,"  she  said.  "You  have  brains,  and  that  is 
the  great  thing  needful  in  overseeing  cooking.  And  I 
will  come  some  day  on  purpose  to  tell  you  how  the  dishes 
that  your  brother  likes,  and  you  like,  ought  to  be  cooked 
to  make  them  delicious,  and  you  shall  be  able  to  tell  any 
one  how  they  should  be  done,  and  understand  what  is 
the  matter  with  them  if  they  are  not  done  properly. 
All  this  the  lady  of  the  house  ought  to  know,  and  I  can 
tell  you  anything  you  ask  me,  for  there  is  nothing  about 
cooking  that  I  do  not  thoroughly  understand ;  but  I  will 
not  go  upstairs  now,  and  I  will  not  detain  you  from  your 
visitor.  I  will  take  a  turn  in  the  grounds,  and  when  the 
lady  has  gone,  I  will  ask  leave  to  speak  with  Mrs.  Drane." 

With  her  head  on  one  side,  and  her  smile  and  her 
bow,  La  Fleur  left  the  kitchen  by  the  outer  door.  She 
stepped  quickly  toward  the  barn,  looking  right  and  left 
as  she  walked.     She  wished  very  much  to  see  Mike,  and 


A  CONFIDENTIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  279 

presently  she  had  that  pleasure.  He  had  just  come  out 
of  the  barnyard,  and  was  closing  the  gate.  She  hurried 
toward  him,  for,  although  somewhat  porpoise-built,  she 
was  vigorous  and  could  walk  fast. 

"  I  am  so  pleased  to  see  you,  Michael,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  brought  you  something  which  I  think  you  will 
like,"  and,  opening  a  black  bag  which  she  carried  on 
her  arm,  she  produced  a  package  wrapped  in  brown 
paper. 

"This,"  she  said,  opening  the  wrapping,  "is  a  pie  — 
a  veal  and  'am  pie — such  as  you  would  not  be  likely 
to  find  in  this  country,  unless  you  got  me  to  make  it 
for  you.  I  baked  it  early  this  morning,  intending  to 
come  here,  and  being  sure  you  would  like  it;  and  you 
needn't  have  any  scruples  about  taking  it.  I  bought 
everything  in  it  with  my  own  money.  I  always  do  that 
when  I  cook  little  dishes  for  people  I  like." 

The  pie  had  been  brought  as  a  present  for  Mrs. 
Drane,  but,  feeling  that  it  was  highly  necessary  to  pro- 
pitiate the  only  person  on  the  place  who  might  be  of 
use  to  her.  La  Fleur  decided  to  give  the  pie  to  Mike. 

The  face  of  the  colored  man  beamed  with  pleasure. 

"Veal  and  ham.  Them  two  things  ought  to  go  to- 
gether fust  rate,  though  I've  never  eat  'em  in  that 
way.  An'  in  a  pie,  too;  that  looks  mighty  good.  An' 
how  do  ye  eat  it,  Mrs.  —  'sense  me,  ma'am,  but  I  never 
can  rightly  git  hold  of  yer  name." 

"No  wonder,  no  wonder,"  said  the  other;  "it  is  a 
French  name.  My  second  husband  was  a  Frenchman. 
A  great  cook,  Michael,  —  a  Frenchman.    But  the  Eng- 


280  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUKST 

lish  of  the  name  is  flower,  and  you  can  call  me  Mrs. 
Flower.     You  can  surely  remember  that,  Michael." 

Mike  grinned  widely. 

^^  Oh,  yes  indeed,  ma'am,''  said  he ;  "  no  trouble  'bout 
that,  'specially  when  I  think  what  pie  crust  is  made  of, 
an'  that  you's  a  cook." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  that  kind  of  flower,"  said  La  Fleur, 
laughing ;  "  but  it  doesn't  matter  a  bit,  —  it  sounds  the 
same.  And  now,  Michael,  you  must  warm  this  and  eat 
it  for  your  dinner.     Have  you  a  fire  in  your  house  ?  " 

"I  can  make  one  in  no  time,"  said  Mike.  "Then 
you  think  I'd  better  not  let  the  cook  warm  it  for  me  ?  " 

"You  are  quite  right,"  said  La  Fleur.  "I  don't  be- 
lieve she's  half  as  good  a  cook  as  you  are,  Michael,  for 
I've  heard  that  all  colored  people  have  a  knack  that 
way;  and  like  as  not  she'd  burn  it  to  a  crisp." 

Wrapping  up  the  pie  and  handing  it  to  the  delighted 
negro.  La  Fleur  proceeded  to  business,  for  she  felt  she 
had  no  time  to  lose. 

"And  how  are  you  getting  on,  Michael?"  said  she. 
"I  suppose  everybody  is  very  busy  preparing  for  the 
master's  wedding." 

"  The  what !  "  exclaimed  Mike,  his  eyebrows  elevating 
themselves  to  such  a  degree  that  his  hat  rose. 

"  Mr.  Haverley's  marriage  with  Miss  Dora  Bannister. 
Isn't  that  to  take  place  very  soon,  Michael  ?  " 

Mike  put  his  pie  on  the  post  of  the  barn  gate,  took 
off  his  hat,  and  wiped  his  brow  with  his  shirt-sleeve. 

"  Bless  my  evarlastin'  soul,  Mrs.  Flower !  who  on 
this  earth  told  you  that  ?  " 


A  CONFIDENTIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  281 

"Is  it  then  such  a  great  secret?  Miss  Panney  told 
it  to  me  not  twenty  minutes  ago." 

Mike  put  on  his  hat ;  he  took  his  pie  from  the  post, 
and  held  it,  first  in  one  hand  and  then  in  the  other. 
He  seemed  unable  to  express  what  he  thought. 

"Look  a  here,  Mrs.  Flower,"  he  said  presently,  "she 
told  you  that,  did  she  ?  " 

"  She  really  did,"  was  the  answer. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Mike,  "the  long  an'  the  short  of 
it  is,  she  lies.  'Tain't  the  fust  time  that  old  Miss  Pan- 
ney has  done  that  sort  of  thing.  She  comes  to  me  one 
day,  more  than  six  year  ago,  an'  says,  *  Mike,'  says  she, 
<  why  don't  you  marry  Phoebe  Moxley  ? '  *  'Cause  I 
don't  want  to  marry  her,  nor  nobody  else,'  says  I.  *  But 
you  ought  to,'  said  she,  ^for  she's  a  good  woman  an'  a 
nice  washer  an'  ironer,  an'  you'd  do  well  together.' 
*  Don't  want  no  washin'  nor  ironin',  nor  no  Phoebe, 
neither,'  says  I.  But  she  didn't  mind  nothin'  what  I 
said,  an'  goes  an'  tells  everybody  that  me  an'  Phoebe 
was  goin'  to  be  married;  an'  then  it  was  we  did  git 
married,  jest  to  stop  people  talkin'  so  much  about  it, 
an'  now  look  at  us.  Me  never  so  much  as  gittin'  a 
bite  of  corn-bread,  an'  she  a  boardin'  the  minister !  Jes' 
you  take  my  word  for  it,  Mrs.  Flower,  old  Miss  Panney 
wants  Miss  Dora  to  marry  him,  an'  she's  goin'  about 
tellin'  people,  thinkin'  that  after  a  while  they'll  do  it 
jes'  'cause  everybody  'spects  them  to." 

"  But  don't  you  think  they  intend  to  marry,  Mike  ?  " 
forgetting  to  address  him  by  his  full  name. 

Mike  was  about  to  strike  the  pie  in  his  right  hand  with 


282  THE   GIRL  AT  COBHUKST 

his  left,  in  order  to  give  emphasis  to  his  words,  but  he 
refrained  in  time. 

*^  Don't  believe  one  cussed  word  of  it,"  said  he.  "  Mr. 
Haverley  ain't  the  man  to  do  that  sort  of  thing  without 
makin'  some  of  his  'rangements  p'int  that  way,  an'  none 
of  his  'rangements  do  p'int  that  way.  If  he'd  been  goin' 
to  git  married,  he'd  told  me,  you  bet,  an'  we'd  laid  out 
the  farm  work  more  suitable  for  a  weddin'  than  it  is  laid 
out.  I  ain't  goin'  to  believe  no  word  about  no  weddin' 
till  I  git  it  from  somebody  better  nor  Miss  Panney.  If 
he  was  goin'  to  marry  anybody,  he'd  be  more  like  to 
marry  that  purty  little  Miss  Drane.  She's  right  here  on 
the  spot,  an'  she  ainit  pizen  proud  like  them  Bannisters. 
§he's  as  nice  as  cake,  an'  not  stuck  up  a  bit.  Bless  my 
fioul !     She  don't  know  one  thing  about  nothin'." 

"  You're  very  much  mistaken,  Michael,"  exclaimed  La 
Fleur.  "  She  is  very  well  educated,  and  has  been  sent  to 
the  best  schools." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  school  larnin',"  said  Mike ;  "  I  mean 
'bout  cows  an'  chickens.  She'll  come  here  when  I'm 
milkin',  an'  ask  me  things  about  the  critters  an'  craps 
that  I  knowed  when  I  was  a  baby.  I  reckon  she's  the 
kind  of  a  lady  that  knows  all  about  what's  in  her  line, 
an'  don't  know  nothin'  'bout  what's  not  in  her  line. 
That's  the  kind  of  young  lady  I  like.  No  spyin'  around 
to  see  what's  been  did,  an'  what's  hain't  been  did.  I've 
lived  with  them  Bannisters." 

La  Fleur  gazed  reflectively  upon  the  ground. 

^*I  never  thought  of  it  before,"  she  said,  "but  Miss 
Cicely  would  make  a  very  good  wife  for  a  gentleman  like 


A  CONFIDENTIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  283 

Mr.  Haverley.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there,  and 
none  of  our  business,  Michael.  But  if  you  hear  anything 
more  about  this  marriage  between  Mr.  Haverley  and  Miss 
Bannister,  I  wish  you'd  come  and  tell  me.  I've  had  a 
deal  of  curiosity  to  know  if  that  old  lady's  been  trying  to 
make  a  fool  of  me.  It  isn't  of  any  consequence,  but  it 
is  natural  to  have  a  curiosity  about  such  things,  and  I 
shall  be  very  thankful  to  you  if  you  will  bring  me  any 
news  that  you  may  get.  And  when  you  come,  Michael, 
you  may  be  sure  that  you  will  not  go  away  hungry,  be 
it  daytime  or  night." 

"  Oh,  I'll  come  along,  you  bet,"  said  Mike,  "  an'  I  am 
much  obleeged  to  you,  Mrs.  Flower,  for  this  here  pie." 

When  the  good  cook  had  gone  to  speak  with  Mrs. 
Drane,  Mike  repaired  to  the  woodshed,  where,  picking 
up  an  axe,  he  stood  for  some  moments  regarding  a  short, 
knotty  log  on  end  in  front  of  him.  His  blood  flowed 
angrily. 

"  Marry  that  there  Bannister  girl,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  A  pretty  piece  of  business  if  that  family  was  to  come 
here  with  their  money  an'  their  come-up-ence.  They'd 
turn  everythin'  upside  down  on  this  place.  No  use  for 
ramshackle  farmin'  they'd  have,  an'  no  use  for  me, 
nuther,  with  their  top  boots  an'  stovepipe  hats." 

Mike  had  been  discharged  from  the  Bannisters'  ser- 
vice because  of  his  unwillingness  to  pay  any  attention 
to  his  personal  appearance. 

"  If  that  durned  Miss  Panney,"  he  continued,  "  keeps 
on  tellin'  that  to  the  people,  things  will  be  a  cussed  sight 
worse  than  me  a  livin'  here  without  decent  vittles,  an* 


284  THE  GIRL   AT  COBHUEST 

Phoebe  a  boardin'  that  minister  that  ain't  paid  no  board 
yit.  Blast  them  all,  I  say."  And  with  that  he  lifted  up 
his  axe  and  brought  it  down  on  the  end  of  the  upturned 
log  with  such  force  that  it  split  into  two  jagged  portions. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE   TEABERRY   GOWN    IS    DONNED 

When  Miss  Panney  had  driven  herself  away  from 
Cobhurst  and  Dr.  Tolbridge's  cook  had  finished  her  con- 
ference with  Mrs.  Drane  and  had  gone  out  to  the  barn 
to  look  for  her  carriage,  Miriam  Haverley  was  left  with 
an  impression  upon  her  mind.  This  was  to  the  effect 
that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  managing  and  directing 
going  on  in  the  house  with  which  she  had  nothing  to  do. 

Miss  Panney  went  into  her  kitchen  to  talk  to  Molly 
Tooney,  and  when  she  did  not  want  to  talk  to  her  any 
more  she  sent  her  upstairs,  in  order  that  she  might  talk 
to  Dr.  Tolbridge's  cook,  which  latter  person  had  come 
into  her  kitchen,  as  Molly  had  informed  her  after  La 
Fleur's  departure,  for  the  purpose  of  finding  fault  with 
the  family  cooking.  Whether  or  not  the  old  woman  had 
felt  herself  called  upon  to  instruct  Mike  in  regard  to 
his  duty,  she  did  not  know,  but  when  Miriam  went  into 
the  orchard  for  some  apples,  she  had  seen  her  talking 
to  him  at  the  barn  gate,  and  when  she  came  out  again, 
she  saw  her  there  still.  Even  Ealph  took  a  little  too 
much  on  himself,  though  of  course  he  did  not  mean 


THE  TEABERRY  GOWN  IS  DONNED      285 

anything  by  it,  but  he  had  told  Molly  Tooney  that  she 
ought  to  have  breakfast  sooner  in  order  that  Miss 
Drane  and  he  might  get  more  promptly  to  their  work. 
While  considering  her  impression,  Molly  Tooney  came 
to  Miriam,  her  face  red. 

"  What  do  you  think,  miss,"  said  she,  "  that  old  bundle 
of  a  cook  that  was  here  this  mornin'  has  been  doin'  ? 
She's  been  bringin'  cauld  vittles  from  the  docther's 
kitchen  to  that  nager  Mike,  as  if  you  an'  Mr.  Haverley 
didn't  give  him  enough  to  eat.  I  looked  in  at  his  win- 
der, a  wonderin'  what  he  wanted  wid  a  fire  in  summer 
time,  an'  saw  him  heatin'  the  stuff.  It's  an  insult  to  me 
an'  the  family,  miss,  that's  what  it  is."  And  the  irate 
woman  rested  her  knuckles  on  her  hips. 

Miriam's  face  turned  a  little  pink. 

"  I  will  inquire  about  that,  Molly,"  she  said,  and  her 
impression  became  a  conviction. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  Miriam  went  up  to 
her  room,  and  spreading  out  on  the  bed  the  teaberry  gown 
of  Judith  Pacewalk,  she  stood  looking  at  it.  She  intended 
to  put  on  that  gown  and  wear  it.  But  it  did  not  fit  her. 
It  needed  all  sorts  of  alterations,  and  how  to  make  these 
she  did  not  know  j  sewing  and  its  kindred  arts  had  not 
been  taught  in  the  schools  to  which  she  had  been  sent. 
It  is  true  that  Miss  Panney  had  promised  to  cut  and 
fit  this  gown  for  her,  but  Miriam  did  not  wish  Miss 
Panney  to  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  That  old  lady 
seemed  entirely  too  willing  to  have  to  do  with  her  affairs. 

While  Miriam  thus  cogitated.  Cicely  Drane  passed  the 
open  door  of  her  room,  and  seeing  the  queer  old-fashioned 


286  THE  GIBL  AT  COBHURST 

dress  upon  the  bed,  she  stopped,  and  asked  what  it  was. 
Miriam  told  the  whole  story  of  Judith  Pacewalk,  which 
greatly  interested  Cicely,  and  then  she  stated  her  desire 
to  alter  the  dress  so  that  she  could  wear  it.  But  she 
said  nothing  about  her  purpose  in  doing  this.  She  was 
growing  very  fond  of  Cicely,  but  she  did  not  feel  that 
she  knew  her  well  enough  to  entirely  open  her  heart  to 
her,  and  tell  her  of  her  fears  and  aspirations  in  regard  to 
her  position  in  the  home  so  dear  to  her." 

"Wear  it,  my  dear?"  exclaimed  Cicely.  "Why,  of 
course  I  would.  You  may  not  have  thought  of  it,  but 
since  you  have  told  me  that  story,  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  fitness  of  things  demands  that  you  should  wear  that 
gown.  As  to  the  fitness  of  the  dress  itself,  I'll  help 
you  about  that.  I  can  cut,  sew,  and  do  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  and  together  we  will  make  a  lovely  gown  of  it  for 
you.  I  do  not  think  we  ought  to  change  the  style  and 
fashion  of  it,  but  we  can  make  it  smaller  without  making 
it  anything  but  the  delightful  old-timey  gown  that  it  is. 
And  then  let  me  tell  you  another  thing,  dear  Miriam: 
you  must  really  put  up  your  hair.  You  will  never  be 
treated  with  proper  respect  by  your  cook  until  you  do 
that.  Mother  and  I  have  been  talking  about  this,  and 
thought  that  perhaps  we  ought  to  mention  it  to  you, 
because  you  would  not  be  likely  to  think  of  it  yourself, 
but  we  thought  we  had  no  right  to  be  giving  you  advice, 
and  so  said  nothing.  But  now  I  have  spoken  of  it,  and 
how  angry  are  you  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  answered  Miriam ;  "  and  I  shall  put  up 
jny  hair,  if  you  will  show  me  how  to  do  it." 


THE  TEABBRRY  GOWN  IS  DONNED      287 

So  long  as  the  Dranes  admitted  that  they  had  no  right 
to  give  her  advice,  Miriam  was  willing  that  they  should 
give  her  as  much  as  they  pleased. 

For  several  days  Cicely  and  Miriam  cut  and  stitched 
and  fitted  and  took  in  and  let  out,  and  one  morning 
Miriam  came  down  to  breakfast  attired  in  the  pink 
chintz  gown,  its  skirt  touching  the  floor,  and  with  her 
long  brown  hair  tastefully  done  up  in  a  knot  upon  her 
head. 

"  What  a  fine  young  woman  has  my  little  sister  grown 
into ! "  exclaimed  Kalph.  "  To  look  at  you,  Miriam,  it 
seems  as  if  years  must  have  passed  since  yesterday. 
That  is  the  pink  dress  that  Dora  Bannister  wore  when 
she  was  here,  isn't  it  ?  " 

This  remark  irritated  Miriam  a  little ;  Ralph  saw  the 
irritation,  and  was  sorry  that  he  had  made  the  remark. 
It  was  surprising  how  easily  Miriam  was  irritated  by 
references  to  Dora. 

"  I  lent  it  once,"  said  his  sister,  as  she  took  her  seat 
at  the  table,  "  but  I  shall  not  do  it  again." 

That  day  Mike  was  interviewed  in  regard  to  what 
might  be  called  his  foreign  maintenance.  The  ingenuous 
negro  was  amazed.  His  Irish  and  his  African  tempera- 
ments struggled  together  for  expression. 

"  Bless  my  soul,  Miss  Miriam,"  he  said ;  "  nobody  in 
this  world  ever  brought  me  nuthin'  to  eat,  'cause  they 
know'd  I  didn't  need  it,  an'  gittin'  the  best  of  livin'  right 
here  in  your  house,  Miss  Miriam,  an'  if  they  had  brought 
it  I  wouldn't  have  took  it  an'  swallowed  the  family 
pride;   an'  what's  more,  the  doctor's  cook  didn't  bring 


288  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

that  pie  on  purpose  for  me.  She  just  corned  down  here 
to  ax  me  how  to  make  real  good  corn-cakes,  knowin'  that 
I  was  a  fust-rate  cook,  an'  could  make  corn-cakes,  an'  she 
wanted  to  know  how  to  do  it.  When  I  tole  her  jes'  how 
to  do  it,  —  ash-cakes,  griddle-cakes,  batter-cake,  every 
kin'  of  cake,  —  she  was  so  mighty  obligated  that  ehe  took 
a  little  bit  of  a  pie,  made  of  meat,  out  of  the  bag  what 
she'd  brought  along  to  eat  on  the  way  home,  not  feelin' 
hungry  at  lunch  time,  an'  give  it  to  me.  An'  not  wantin' 
to  hurt  her  feelin's,  I  jes'  took  it,  an'  when  I  went  to  my 
house  I  het  it  an'  eat  it,  an'  bless  your  soul.  Miss  Miriam, 
it  did  taste  good;  for  that  there  woman  in  the  kitchen 
don't  give  me  half  enpugh  to  eat,  an'  never  no  corn-bread 
an'  ham  fat,  which  is  mighty  cheap.  Miss  Miriam,  an'  a 
long  sight  better  for  a  workin'  pusson  than  crusts  of 
wheat  bread  a  week  old  an'  — " 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  interrupted  Miriam,  *•  that 
Molly  does  not  give  you  enough  to  eat  ?  I'll  speak  to 
her  about  that.     She  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  herself." 

"Now  look  here.  Miss  Miriam,"  said  Mike,  speaking 
more  earnestly,  "  don't  you  go  an'  do  that.  If  you  tell 
her  that,  she'll  go  an'  make  me  the  biggest  corn-pone 
anybody  ever  seed,  an'  she'll  put  pizen  into  it.  Oh,  it'd 
never  do  to  say  anythin'  like  that  to  Molly  Tooney,  if 
she's  got  me  to  feed.  Jes'  let  me  tell  you.  Miss  Miriam, 
don't  you  say  nothin'  to  Molly  Tooney  'bout  me.  I 
never  could  sleep  at  night  if  I  thought  she  was  stirrin'  up 
pizen  in  my  vittles.  But  I  tell  you,  Miss  Miriam,  if  you 
was  to  say  Molly,  that  you  an'  Mr.  Haverley  liked  corn- 
cakes  an'  was  always  used  to  'em  before  you  come  here, 


THE  TBABERRY  GOWN  IS  DONNED     289 

an'  that  they  'greed  with  you,  then  in  course  she'd  make 
'em,  an'  there'd  be  a  lot  left  over  for  me,  for  I  don't 
'spect  you  all  could  eat  the  corn-bread  she'd  make,  but 
I'd  eat  it,  bein'  so  powerful  hungry  for  corn-meal." 

"  Mike,"  said  Miriam,  "  you  shall  have  corn-bread,  but 
that  is  all  nonsense  about  Molly.  I  do  not  see  how  you 
could  get  such  a  notion  into  your  head." 

Mike  gave  himself  a  shrug. 

"Now  look  a  here,  Miss  Miriam,"  he  said ;  " I've  heard 
before  of  red-headed  cooks,  an'  colored  pussons  as  wasn't 
satisfied  with  their  victuals,  an'  nobody  knows  what  they 
died  of,  an'  the  funerals  was  mighty  slim,  an'  no  'count, 
the  friends  an'  congregation  thinkin'  there  might  be 
somethin'  'tagious.  Them  red-headed  kind  of  cooks  is 
mighty  dangerous,  Miss  Miriam,  an'  lemme  tell  you,  the 
sooner  you  git  rid  of  them,  the  better." 

Miriam's  previous  experiences  had  brought  her  very 
little  into  contact  with  negroes,  and  although  she  did  not 
care  very  much  about  what  Mike  was  saying,  it  inter- 
ested her  to  hear  him  talk.  His  intonations  and  man- 
ner of  expressing  himself  pleased  her  fancy.  She  could 
imagine  herself  in  the  sunny  South,  talking  to  an  old 
family  servant.  This  fancy  was  novel  and  pleasant. 
Mike  liked  to  talk,  and  was  shrewd  enough  to  see  that 
Miriam  liked  to  listen  to  him.  He  determined  to  take 
advantage  of  this  opportunity  to  find  out  something  in 
regard  to  the  doleful  news  brought  to  him  by  La  Fleur 
and  which,  he  feared,  might  be  founded  upon  fact. 

"  Now  look  here.  Miss  Miriam,"  said  he,  lowering  his 
voice  a  little,  but  not  enough  to  make  him  seem  disre- 
u 


290  THE  GIRL  AT  C0BHUR8T 

spectfully  confidential,  *^what  you  want  is  a  first-class 
colored  cook  —  not  Phoebe,  she's  no  good  cook,  an'  won't 
live  in  the  country,  an'  is  so  mighty  stuck  up  that  she 
don't  like  nuthin'  but  wheat  bread,  an'  ain't  no  'count 
anyway.  But  I  got  a  sister.  Miss  Miriam.  She's  a 
number  one,  fust-class  cook,  knows  all  the  northen  an' 
southen  an'  easten  an'  westen  kind  of  cookin',  an'  she's 
only  got  two  chillun,  what  could  keep  in  the  house  all 
day  long  an'  not  trouble  nobody,  'side  bringin'  kindlin' 
an'  runnin'  errands;  an'  the  husband,  he's  dead,  an' 
that's  a  good  sight  better.  Miss  Miriam,  than  havin'  him 
hangin'  round,  eatin'  his  meals  here,  an'  bein'  no  use, 
'cause  he  had  rheumatism  all  over  him,  'cept  on  his 
appetite." 

This  suggestion  pleased  Miriam;  here  was  a  chance 
for  another  old  family  servant. 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  have  your  sister,  Mike,"  she 
said ;  "  what  is  her  name  ?  Is  she  working  for  anybody 
now?" 

"  Her  name  is  Seraphina  —  Seraphina  Paddock.  Pad- 
dock was  his  name.  She's  keepin'  house  now,  an'  takin' 
in  washin',  down  to  Bridgeport.  1  reckon  she's  like  to 
come  here  an'  live,  mighty  well." 

"I  wish  you'd  tell  her  to  come  and  see  me,"  said 
Miriam.  "I  think  it  would  be  a  very  good  thing  for  us 
to  have  a  colored  cook." 

"  Mighty  good  thing.  There  ain't  nothin'  better  than 
a  colored  cook ;  but  jus'  let  me  tell  you.  Miss  Miriam, 
my  sister's  mighty  particular  'bout  goin'  to  places  an' 
takin'  her  family,  an'  furniture,  an'  settin'  herself  up  to 


THE  TEABERRY  GOWN  IS  DONNED      291 

live  when  she  don't  know  whether  things  is  fixed  an' 
settled  there,  or  whether  the  fust  thing  she  knows  is 
she's  got  to  pull  up  stakes  an'  git  out  agin." 

"  I  am  sure  everything  is  fixed  and  settled  here,"  said 
Miriam,  in  surprise. 

"  Well,  now  look  a  here.  Miss  Miriam,"  said  Mike, 
"'spose  you  was  clean  growed  up,  an'  you're  near  that 
now,  as  anybody  can  see,  an'  you  was  goin'  to  git  married 
to  somebody,  or  'spose  Mr.  Haverley  was  goin'  to  git 
married  to  somebody,  why  don'  you  see  you'd  go  way 
with  your  husband,  an'  your  brother  he'd  come  here  with 
his  new  wife,  an'  everything  would  be  turned  over  an' 
sot  upside  down,  an'  then  Seraphina,  she'd  have  to  git 
up  an'  git,  for  there'd  sure  to  be  a  new  kin'  of  cook 
wanted  or  else  none,  an'  Seraphina,  she'd  fin'  her  house 
down  to  Bridgeport  rented  to  somebody  who  had  gone 
way  without  payin'  the  rent,  an'  had  been  splittin'  kind- 
lin'  on  the  front  steps  an'  hacking  'em  all  up,  and  white- 
washin'  the  kitchen  what  she  papered  last  winter  to  hide 
the  grease  spots  what  they  made  through  living  like 
pigs,  an'  Seraphina,  she  can't  stand  nothing  like  that." 

Miriam  burst  out  laughing. 

"Mike,"  she  cried,  "nobody  is  going  to  get  married 
here." 

Mike's  eyes  glistened. 

"That  so,  sure?"  he  said.  "You  see.  Miss  Miriam, 
you  an'  your  brother  is  both  so  'tractive,  that  I  sort  o' 
'sposed  you  might  be  thinkin'  of  gittin'  married,  an'  if 
that  was  so,  I  couldn't  go  to  Seraphina,  an'  git  her  to 
come  here  when  things  wasn't  fixed  an'  settled." 


292  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

"  If  that  is  all  that  would  keep  your  sister  from  com- 
ing," said  Miriam,  "  she  need  not  trouble  herself." 

"  Now  look  a  here,  Miss  Miriam,"  said  Mike,  quickly, 
"  of  course  everything  in  this  world  depends  on  sarcum- 
stances,  an'  if  it  happened  that  Mr.  Hav'ley  was  the  one 
to  git  married,  an'  he  was  to  take  some  lady  that  was 
livin'  here  anyway  an'  was  used  to  the  place,  an'  the 
ways  of  the  house,  an'  didn't  want  to  go  anywheres  else 
an'  wanted  to  stay  here  an'  not  to  chance  nothin'  an'  have 
the  same  people  workin'  as  worked  before,  like  Miss 
Drane,  say,  with  her  mother  livin'  here  jes'  the  same,  an' 
you  keepin'  house  jes'  as  you  is  now,  an'  all  goin'  on  with- 
out no  upsottin',  of  course  Seraphina,  she  wouldn't  mind 
that.  She'd  like  mighty  well  to  come,  whether  your 
brother  was  married  or  not ;  but  supposin'  he  married  a 
lady  like  Miss  Dora  Bannister.  Bless  my  soul.  Miss 
Miriam,  everything  in  this  place  would  be  turned  heels 
up  an'  heads  down,  an'  there  wouldn't  be  no  colored  pus- 
sons  wanted  in  this  'stablishment,  Seraphina  nor  me 
nuther,  an'  I  reckon  you  wouldn't  know  the  place  in  six 
months.  Miss  Miriam,  with  that  Miss  Dora  runnin'  it,  an' 
old  Miss  Panney  with  her  fingers  in  the  pie,  an'  nobody 
can't  help  her  doin'  that  when  Miss  Dora  is  concerned, 
an'  you  kin  see  for  yourself,  Miss  Miriam,  that  Seraphina, 
an'  me,  too,  is  bound  to  be  bounced  if  it  was  to  come  to 
that." 

"I  will  talk  to  you  again  about  your  sister,"  said 
Miriam,  and  she  went  away,  amused. 

Mike  was  delighted. 

"It's  all  a  cussed  old  lie,  jes'  as  I  thought  it  wuz," 


THE  TBABBRRY  GOWN  IS  DONNED      293 

said  he  to  himself;  "an'  that  old  Miss  Panney'll  fin' 
them  young  uns  is  harder  nuts  to  crack  than  me  an' 
Phoebe  wuz.  I  got  in  some  good  licks  fur  dat  purty 
Miss  Cicely,  too." 

Miriam's  amusement  gradually  faded  away  as  she 
approached  the  house.  At  first  it  had  seemed  funny  to 
hear  any  one  talk  about  Ralph  or  herself  getting  mar- 
ried, but  now  it  did  not  appear  so  funny.  On  the  con- 
trary, that  part  of  Mike's  remarks  which  concerned 
Ralph  and  Dora  was  positively  depressing.  Suppose 
such  a  thing  were  really  to  happen ;  it  would  be  dread- 
ful. She  had  thought  her  brother  overfond  of  Dora's 
society,  but  the  matter  had  never  appeared  to  her  in 
the  serious  aspect  in  which  she  saw  it  now. 

She  had  intended  to  find  Ralph,  and  speak  to  him 
about  Mike's  sister;  but  now  she  changed  her  mind. 
She  was'  wearing  the  teaberry  gown,  and  she  would  at- 
tend to  her  own  affairs  as  mistress  of  the  house.  If 
Ralph  could  be  so  cruel  as  to  marry  Dora,  and  put  her 
at  the  head  of  everything,  —  and  if  she  were  here  at  all, 
she  would  want  to  be  at  the  head  of  everything,  —  then 
she,  Miriam,  would  take  off  the  teaberry  gown,  and  lock 
it  up  in  the  old  trunk. 

"  But  can  it  be  possible,"  she  asked  herself,  as  a  tear 
or  two  began  to  show  themselves  in  her  eyes,  "that 
Ralph  could  be  so  cruel  as  that?" 

As  she  reached  the  door  of  the  house,  Cicely  Drane 
was  coming  out.  Involuntarily  Miriam  threw  her  arms 
around  her  and  folded  her  close  to  the  teaberry  gown. 

Miriam  was  not  in  the  habit  of  giving  away  to  0T;^tr 


294  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

bursts  of  this  sort,  and  as  she  released  Cicely  she  said 
with  a  little  apologetic  blush, — 

"It  is  so  nice  to  have  you  here.  I  feel  as  if  you 
ought  not  ever  to  go  away." 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  want  to  go,  dear,"  said  Cicely, 
with  the  smile  of  good-fellowship  that  always  went  to 
the  heart  of  Miriam. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

MISS    PANNEY   FEELS    SHE   MUST    CHANGE   HER   PLANS 

Molly  Tooney  waited  with  some  impatience  the  re- 
sult of  Miriam's  interview  with  Mike.  If  the  "  nager  " 
should  be  discharged  for  taking  cold  victuals  like  a  beg- 
gar, Molly  would  be  glad  of  it ;  it  would  suit  her  much 
better  to  have  a  nice  Irish  boy  in  his  place. 

But  when  Miriam  told  her  cook  that  evening  that 
Mike  had  satisfactorily  explained  the  matter  of  the  pie, 
and  also  remarked  that  in  future  she  would  like  to  have 
bread  or  cakes  made  of  corn-meal,  and  that  she  couldn't 
see  any  reason  why  Mike,  who  was  accustomed  to  this 
sort  of  food,  should  not  have  it  always,  Molly's  soul 
blazed  within  her;  it  would  have  burst  out  into  fiery 
speech ;  but  the  girl  before  her,  although  young,  was  so 
quiet  and  sedate,  so  suggestive  of  respect,  that  Molly, 
scarcely  knowing  why  she  did  it,  curbed  herself;  but 
she  instantly  gave  notice  that  she  wished  to  quit  the 
place  on  the  next  day. 


MISS   PANNEY  CHANGES   HER  PLANS  295 

When  Kalpli  heard  this,  he  was  very  angry,  and 
wanted  to  go  and  talk  to  the  woman. 

"Don^t  you  do  anything  of  the  kind,"  said  Miriam. 
"It  is  not  your  business  to  talk  to  cooks.  I  do  that. 
And  I  want  to  go  to-morrow  to  Thorbury  and  get  some 
one  to  come  to  us  by  the  day  until  the  new  cook  arrives. 
If  I  can  get  her,  I  am  going  to  engage  Seraphina,  Mike's 
sister." 

Ealph  looked  at  her  and  laughed. 

"  Well,  well.  Miss  Teaberry,"  he  said,  "  you  are  getting 
on  bravely.  Putting  up  your  hair  and  letting  down  your 
skirts  has  done  wonders.  You  are  the  true  lady  of  the 
house  now." 

"And  what  have  you  to  say  against  that?"  asked 
Miriam. 

"Not  a  word! "  he  cried.  " I  like  it,  I  am  charmed  with 
it,  and  I  will  drive  you  into  Thorbury  to-morrow.  And 
as  to  Mike's  sister,  you  can  have  all  his  relations  if  you 
like,  provided  they  do  not  charge  too  much.  If  we  had 
a  lot  of  darkies  here,  that  would  make  us  more  truly 
ramshackle  and  jolly  than  we  are  now." 

"  Ealph,"  said  Miriam,  with  dignity,  "  stop  pulling  my 
ears.     Don't  you  see  Mrs.  Drane  coming  ?  " 

The  next  day  Miriam  and  Ealph  jogged  into  Thorbury. 
Miriam,  not  wearing  the  teaberry  gown,  but  having  its 
spirit  upon  her,  had  planned  to  inquire  of  the  grocer 
with  whom  she  dealt,  where  she  might  find  a  woman 
such  as  she  needed,  but  Ealph  did  not  favor  this. 

"Let  us  first  go  and  see  Mrs.  Tolbridge,"  he  said. 
"She  is  one  of  our  first  and  best  friends,  and  probably 


296  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

knows  every  woman  in  town,  and  if  she  doesn't,  the 
doctor  does." 

This  last  point  had  its  effect  upon  Miriam.  She 
wanted  to  see  Dr.  Tolbridge  to  ask  if  he  could  not  stop 
in  and  quiet  the  mind  of  Cicely,  who  really  wanted  to 
see  him  about  her  work,  but  who  did  not  like,  as  Miriam 
easily  conjectured,  to  ask  Ealph  to  send  her  to  town. 
Miriam  wished  to  make  things  as  pleasant  as  possible 
for  Cicely,  and  Mrs.  Tolbridge  had  not,  so  far,  meddled 
in  the  least  with  her  concerns.  If,  inadvertently,  Ealph 
had  proposed  a  consultation  with  Mrs.  Bannister,  there 
would  have  been  a  hubbub  in  the  gig. 

The  doctor  and  his  wife  were  both  at  home,  and  when 
the  business  of  the  Haverleys  had  been  stated  to  them, 
Mrs.  Tolbridge  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Truly,''  she  cried,  "  this  is  a  piece  of  rare  good  for- 
tune ;  we  will  lend  them  La  Fleur.  Do  you  know,  my 
dear  girl,"  she  said  to  Miriam,  "that  the  doctor  and  I 
are  going  away  ?  He  will  attend  a  medical  convention  at 
Barport,  and  I  will  visit  my  mother,  to  whom  he  will  come, 
later.  It  will  be  a  grand  vacation  for  us,  for  we  shall 
stay  away  from  Thorbury  for  two  weeks,  and  the  only 
thing  which  has  troubled  us  is  to  decide  what  we  shall 
do  with  La  Fleur  while  we  are  gone.  We  want  to 
shut  up  the  house,  and  she  does  not  want  to  go  to  her 
friends,  and  if  she  should  do  so,  I  am  afraid  we  might 
lose  her.  I  am  sure  she  would  be  delighted  to  come  to 
you,  especially  as  the  Dranes  are  with  you.  Shall  I  ask 
her?" 

Miriam  jumped  to  her  feet,  with  an  expression  of  alarm 


MISS  PANNEY  CHANGES   HER  PLANS  297 

on  her  countenance,  which  amused  the  doctor  and  her 
brother. 

^^Oh,  please,  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  don't  do  that!"  she 
exclaimed.  "  Truly,  I  could  not  have  a  great  cook  like 
La  Fleur  in  our  kitchen.  I  should  be  frightened  to 
death,  and  she  would  have  nothing  to  do  anything  with. 
You  know,  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  that  we  live  in  an  awfully 
plain  way.  We  are  not  in  the  least  bit  rich  or  stylish  or 
anything  of  the  sort.  If  Cicely  had  not  told  me  that  she 
and  her  mother  lived  in  the  same  way,  we  could  not  have 
taken  them.  We  keep  only  a  man  and  a  woman,  you 
know,  and  we  all  do  a  lot  of  work  ourselves,  and  Molly 
Tooney  was  always  growling  because  there  were  not 
enough  things  to  cook  with,  and  what  a  French  cook 
would  do  in  our  kitchen  I  really  do  not  know.  She 
would  drive  us  crazy ! " 

"  Come  now,"  said  the  doctor,  laughing,  "  don't  frighten 
yourself  in  that  way,  my  little  lady.  If  La  Fleur  con- 
sents to  go  to  you  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  she  will  under- 
stand the  circumstances,  and  will  be  perfectly  satisfied 
with  what  she  finds.  She  is  a  woman  of  sense.  You 
would  better  let  Mrs.  Tolbridge  go  and  talk  with 
her." 

Miriam  sat  down  in  a  sort  of  despair.  Here  again, 
her  affairs  were  being  managed  for  her.  Would  she  ever 
be  able  to  maintain  her  independence  ?  She  had  said  all 
she  could  say,  and  now  she  hoped  that  La  Fleur  would 
treat  the  proposition  with  contempt. 

But  the  great  cook  did  nothing  of  the  kind.  In  five 
minutes,  Mrs.  Tolbridge  returned  with  the  information 


298  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

that  La  Fleur  would  be  overjoyed  to  go  to  Cobhurst  for 
a  fortnight.  She  wanted  some  country  air ;  she  wanted 
to  see  the  Dranes ;  she  had  a  great  admiration  for  Miss 
Haverley,  being  perfectly  able  to  judge,  although  she  had 
met  her  but  once,  that  she  was  a  lady  born  j  she  looked 
upon  her  brother  as  a  most  superior  gentleman ;  and  she 
would  be  perfectly  content  with  whatever  she  found  in 
the  Cobhurst  kitchen. 

"  She  says,"  added  Mrs.  Tolbridge,  "  that  if  you  give 
her  a  gridiron,  a  saucepan,  and  a  fire,  she  will  cook  a 
meal  fit  for  a  duke.  With  brains,  she  says,  one  can 
make  up  all  deficiencies." 

Ralph  took  his  sister  aside. 

"Do  go  out  and  see  her,  Miriam,"  he  said.  "If  we 
take  her,  we  shall  oblige  our  friends  here,  and  please 
everybody.  It  will  only  be  for  a  little  while,  and  then 
you  can  have  your  old  colored  mammy  and  the  picka- 
ninnies, just  as  you  have  planned." 

When  Miriam  came  back  from  the  kitchen,  she  found 
that  the  doctor  had  left  the  house  and  was  going  to  his 
buggy  at  the  gate. 

"Oh,  Ealph!"  she  exclaimed,  "you  do  not  know 
what  a  nice  woman  she  is.  She  is  just  like  an  old 
family  nurse."  And  then  she  ran  out  to  catch  the 
doctor,  and  talk  to  him  about  Cicely. 

"  Your  sister  is  a  child  yet,"  remarked  Mrs.  Tolbridge, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Indeed  she  is,"  said  Ralph ;  "  and  she  longs  for  what 
she  never  had  —  old  family  servants,  household  ties, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.     And  I  believe  she  would 


MISS   PANNEY   CHANGES   HER  PLANS  2% 

prefer  a  good  old  Southern  mammy  to  a  fine  young 
lover." 

"  Of  course  she  would,"  said  Mrs.  Tolbridge.  "  That 
would  be  natural  to  any  girl  of  her  age,  except,  perhaps," 
she  added,  "  one  like  Dora  Bannister.  I  believe  she  was 
in  love  when  she  was  fifteen." 

It  seemed  strange  to  E-alph  that  the  mention  of  a 
thing  of  this  sort,  which  must  have  happened  three  or 
four  years  ago,  and  to  a  lady  whom  he  had  known  a 
very  short  time,  should  send  a  little  pang  of  jealousy 
through  his  heart,  but  such  was  the  fact. 

There  were  picnic  meals  at  Cobhurst  that  day;  for 
La  Fleur  was  not  to  arrive  until  the  morrow,  and  they 
were  all  very  jolly. 

Mike  was  in  a  state  of  exuberant  delight  at  the  idea 
of  having  that  good  Mrs.  Flower  in  the  place  of  Molly 
Tooney.  He  worked  until  nearly  twelve  o'clock  at 
night  to  scour  and  brighten  the  kitchen  and  its  contents 
for  her  reception. 

Into  this  region  of  bliss  there  descended,  about  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon,  a  frowning  apparition.  It  was 
that  of  Miss  Panney,  to  whom  Molly  had  gone  that 
morning,  informing  her  that  she  had  been  discharged 
without  notice  by  that  minx  of  a  girl,  who  didn't  know 
anything  more  about  housekeeping  than  she  did  about 
blacksmithing,  and  wanted  to  put  "a  dirty,  hathen 
nager  "  over  the  head  of  a  first-class  Christian  cook. 

When  she  heard  this  news,  the  old  lady  was  amazed 
and  indigjiant;  and  she  soundly  rated  Molly  for  not 
coming  to  her  instantly,  before  she  left  her  place.     Had 


300  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

she  known  of  the  state  of  affairs,  she  was  sure  she  could 
have  pacified  Miriam,  and  arranged  for  Molly  to  retain 
her  place.  It  was  very  important  for  Miss  Panney, 
though  she  did  not  say  so,  to  have  some  one  in  the  Cob- 
hurst  family  who  would  keep  her  informed  of  what  was 
happening  there.  If  possible,  Molly  must  go  back ;  and 
anyway  the  old  lady  determined  to  go  to  Cobhurst  and 
look  into  matters. 

Miss  Panney  was  glad  to  find  Miriam  alone  on  the 
front  piazza,  training  some  over-luxuriant  vines  upon  the 
pillars ;  and  the  moment  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  girl,  she 
saw  that  she  was  dressed  as  a  woman,  and  not  in  the 
youthful  costume  in  which  she  had  last  seen  her.  This 
strengthened  the  old  lady's  previous  impression  that 
Ralph's  sister  was  rapidly  becoming  the  real  head  of 
this  house,  and  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  be  very 
careful  in  her  conduct  toward  her.  It  might  be  difficult, 
even  impossible,  to  carry  out  her  match-making  plans  if 
Miriam  should  rise  up  in  opposition  to  them. 

The  old  lady  was  very  cordial,  and  entreated  that 
Miriam  should  go  on  with  her  work,  while  she  sat  in 
an  armchair  near  by.  After  a  little  ordinary  chat.  Miss 
Panney  mentioned  that  she  had  heard  that  Molly  Tooney 
had  been  discharged.  Instantly  Miriam's  pride  arose, 
and  her  manner  cooled.  Here  again  was  somebody 
meddling  with  her  affairs.  In  as  few  words  as  possible, 
she  stated  that  the  woman  had  not  been  discharged,  but 
had  left  of  her  own  accord  without  any  good  reason; 
that  she  did  not  like  her,  and  was  glad  to  get  aid  of  her ; 
that  she  had  an  excellent  cook  in  view,  and  that  until 


MISS  PANNEY  CHANGES   HER  PLANS]  301 

this  person  could  come  to  her,  she  had  engaged,  tempo- 
rarily, a  very  good  woman. 

All  this  she  stated  without  question  or  remark  from 
Miss  Panney;  and  when  she  had  finished,  she  began 
again  to  tie  the  vines  to  their  wires.  Miss  Panney 
gazed  very  steadily  through  her  spectacles  at  the  reso- 
lute side  face  of  the  girl,  and  said  only  that  she  was 
very  glad  that  Miriam  had  been  able  to  make  such  a 
good  arrangement.  It  was  plain  enough  to  her  that 
Molly  Tooney  must  be  dropped,  but  in  doing  this,  Miss 
Panney  would  not  drop  her  plans.  They  would  simply 
be  changed  to  suit  circumstances. 

Had  Miss  Panney  known  who  it  was  who  was  coming 
temporarily  to  the  Cobhurst  kitchen,  it  is  not  likely  that 
she  could  have  glided  so  quietly  from  the  subject  of 
household  service  to  that  of  the  apple  prospect  and 
Miriam's  success  with  hens,  and  from  these  to  the 
Dranes. 

"  Do  you  expect  to  have  them  much  longer  with  you  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  The  work  the  doctor  gave  the  young  lady 
must  be  nearly  finished.  When  that  is  done,  I  suppose 
she  will  go  back  to  town  to  try  to  get  something  to  do 
there." 

"  Oh,  they  have  not  thought  of  going,"  said  Miriam ; 
"  the  doctor's  book  is  a  very  long  one,  and  when  I  saw 
him  yesterday,  he  told  me  that  he  had  ever  so  much 
more  work  for  her  to  do,  and  he  is  going  to  bring  it  out 
here  before  he  goes  to  Barport.  I  should  be  very  sorry 
indeed  if  Cicely  had  to  leave  here,  and  I  don't  think  I 
should  let  her  do  it,  work  or  no  work.     I  like  her  better 


302  THE  GIEL  AT  COBHURST 

and  better  every  day,  and  it  is  the  greatest  comfort  and 
pleasure  to  have  her  here.  It  almost  seems  as  if  she 
were  my  sister,  and  Mrs  Drane  is  just  as  nice  as  she  can 
be.  She  is  so  good  and  kind,  and  never  meddles  with 
anything." 

Miss  Panney  listened  with  great  attention.  She  now 
saw  how  she  must  change  her  plans.  If  Ealph  were  to 
marry  Dora,  Miriam  must  like  Dora.  As  for  his  own 
liking,  there  would  be  no  trouble  about  that,  after  the 
Drane  girl  should  be  got  rid  of.  In  regard  to  this 
riddance.  Miss  Panney  had  intended  to  make  an  early 
move  and  a  decided  one.  Now  she  saw  that  this  would 
not  do.  The  Drane  girl,  that  alien  intruder,  whom  Dr. 
Tolbridge's  treachery  had  thrust  into  this  household, 
was  the  great  obstacle  to  the  old  lady's  schemes,  but 
to  oust  her  suddenly  would  ruin  everything.  Miriam 
would  rise  up  in  opposition,  and  at  present  that  would 
be  fatal.  Miriam  was  not  a  girl  whose  grief  and  anger 
at  the  loss  of  one  thing  could  be  pacified  by  the  promise 
of  another.  Having  lost  Cicely,  she  would  turn  her 
back  upon  Dora,  and  what  would  be  worse,  she  would 
undoubtedly  turn  Ralph's  back  in  that  direction. 

To  this  genial  young  man,  his  sister  was  still  his  chief 
object  on  earth.     Later,  this  might  not  be  the  case. 

When  Miriam  began  to  like  Dora,  —  and  this  must 
happen,  for  in  Miss  Panney's  opinion  the  Bannister 
girl  was  in  every  way  ten  times  more  charming  than 
Cicely  Drane, — then,  cautiously,  but  with  quick  vigor. 
Miss  Panney  would  deliver  the  blow  which  would  send 
the  Dranes  not  only  from  Cobhurst,  but  back  to  their 


MISS  PANNEY  CHANGES   HER  PLANS  303 

old  home.  In  the  capacity  of  an  elderly  and  experienced 
woman  who  knew  what  everybody  said  and  thought,  and 
who  was  able  to  make  her  words  go  to  the  very  spinal 
marrow  of  a  sensitive  person,  she  was  sure  she  could  do 
this.  And  when  she  had  done  it,  it  would  cheer  her  to 
think  that  she  had  not  only  furthered  her  plans,  but 
revenged  herself  on  the  treacherous  doctor. 

Now  was  heard  from  within,  the  voice  of  Cicely,  who 
had  come  downstairs  from  her  work,  and  who,  not 
knowing  that  Miriam  had  a  visitor,  was  calling  to  her 
that  it  was  time  to  get  dinner. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "  go  in  and  attend  to 
your  duties,  and  if  you  will  let  me,  I  shall  like  ever  so 
much  to  stay  and  take  dinner  with  you,  and  you  need 
not  put  yourself  to  the  least  trouble  about  me.  You 
ought  to  have  very  simple  meals  now  that  you  are 
doing  your  own  work.  I  very  much  want  to  become 
better  acquainted  with  your  little  friend  Cicely  and 
her  good  mother.  Now  that  I  know  that  you  care  so 
much  for  them,  I  feel  greatly  interested  in  them  both, 
and  you  know,  my  dear,  there  is  no  way  of  becoming 
acquainted  with  people  which  is  better  than  sitting  at 
'table  with  them." 

Miriam  was  not  altogether  pleased,  but  said  the  proper 
things,  and  went  to  call  Mike  to  take  the  roan  mare, 
who  was  standing  asleep  between  the  shafts  of  her 
phaeton. 

Miss  Panney  now  had  her  cues ;  she  did  not  offer  to 
help  in  any  way,  and  made  no  suggestions  in  any  direc- 
tion.   At  luncheon  she  made  herself  agreeable  to  every- 


304  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

body,  and  before  tbe  meal  was  over  they  all  thought 
her  a  most  delightful  old  lady  with  a  wonderful  stock 
of  good  stories.  On  her  side  Miss  Panney  was  also 
greatly  pleased;  she  found  Kalph  even  a  better  fellow 
than  she  had  thought  him.  He  had  not  only  a  sunny 
temper,  but  a  bright  wit,  and  he  knew  what  was  being 
done  in  the  world.  Cicely,  too,  was  satisfactory.  She 
was  a  most  attractive  little  thing,  pretty  to  a  dangerous 
extent,  but  in  her  treatment  of  Ealph  there  was  not  the 
least  sign  of  flirtation  or  demureness.  She  was  as  free 
and  familiar  with  him  as  if  she  had  known  him  always. 

"  Men  are  not  apt  to  marry  the  girls  they  have  known 
always,"  said  Miss  Panney  to  herself,  "and  Dora  can 
do  better  than  this  ohe  if  she  has  but  the  chance ;  and 
the  chance  she  must  have." 

While  listening  with  the  most  polite  attention  to  a 
reminiscence  related  by  Mrs.  Drane,  Miss  Panney  ear- 
nestly considered  this  subject.  She  had  thought  of  many 
plans,  some  of  them  vague,  but  all  of  the  same  general 
character,  for  bringing  Dora  and  Miriam  together  and 
promoting  a  sisterly  affection  between  them,  for  her 
mind  had  been  busy  with  the  subject  since  Miriam  had 
left  her  alone  on  the  piazza,  but  none  of  the  plans  suited 
her.  They  were  clumsy  and  involved  too  much  action 
on  the  part  of  Dora.  Suddenly  a  satisfying  idea  shot 
into  the  old  lady's  mind,  and  she  smiled  so  pleasantly 
that  Mrs.  Drane  was  greatly  encouraged,  and  entered 
into  some  details  of  her  reminiscence  which  she  had 
intended  to  omit,  thinking  they  might  prove  tiresome. 

"If  they  only  could  go  away  together,  somewhere," 


LA  FLEUR   LOOKS  FUTITREWARD  305 

said  Miss  Panney  to  herself,  "that  would  be  grand; 
that  would  settle  everything.  It  would  not  be  long 
before  Dora  and  Miriam  would  be  the  dearest  of  chums, 
and  with  Ralph's  sister  away,  that  Drane  girl  would 
have  to  go.  It  would  all  be  so  natural,  so  plain,  so 
beautiful." 

When  Miss  Panney  drove  home,  about  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon,  she  was  still  smiling  complacently  at  this 
good  idea,  and  wondering  how  she  might  carry  it  out. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

LA   FLEUR   LOOKS    FUTUREWARD 

According  to  his  promise.  Dr.  Tolbridge  came  to  Cob- 
hurst  on  the  morning  of  his  intended  departure  for  Bar- 
port,  bringing  with  him  more  of  his  manuscript  and  some 
other  copying  which  he  wished  Cicely  to  do.  He  had 
never  known  until  now  how  much  he  needed  a  secretary. 
He  saw  only  the  ladies,  Ralph  having  gone  off  to  try  to 
shoot  some  woodcock.  The  young  man  was  not  in  a  good 
humor,  for  he  had  no  dog,  and  his  discontent  was  increased 
by  the  reflection  that  a  fine  setter  had  been  presented 
to  him,  and  he  had  not  yet  come  into  possession  of  it. 
He  wanted  the  dog,  Congo,  because  he  thought  it  was  a 
good  dog,  and  also  because  Dora  Bannister  had  given 
it  to  him,  and  he  was  impatient  to  carry  out  the  plan 
which  Dora  had  proposed  to  get  the  animal  to  Cobhurst. 

But  this  plan,  which  included  a  visit  from  Dora,  in 

X 


306  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

order  that  the  dog  might  come  to  his  new  home  without 
compulsion,  and  which,  as  modified  by  Ralph,  included 
a  drive  or  a  walk  through  the  woods  with  the  donor  in 
order  that  the  dog  might  learn  to  follow  him,  needed 
Miriam's  cooperation.  And  this  cooperation  he  could 
not  induce  her  to  give.  She  seemed  to  have  all  sorts  of 
reasons  for  putting  off  the  invitation  for  which  Miss 
Bannister  was  evidently  waiting.  Of  course  there  was 
no  reason  for  waiting,  but  girls  are  queer.  A  word  from 
Miriam  would  bring  her,  but  Miriam  was  very  unrespon- 
sive to  suggestions  concerning  said  word. 

"  It  is  not  only  ourselves,"  said  the  doctor,  in  reply  to 
some  questions  from  Mrs.  Drane  in  regard  to  the  in- 
tended journey,  *^who  are  going  this  afternoon.  We 
take  with  us  Mrs.  Bannister  and  Dora.  This  is  quite  a 
sudden  plan,  only  determined  upon  last  night.  They 
both  want  a  little  Barport  life  before  the  season  closes, 
and  thought  it  would  be  pleasant  to  go  with  us." 

Mrs.  Drane  and  Cicely  were  not  very  much  interested 
in  the  Bannisters,  and  received  this  news  tranquilly,  but 
Miriam  felt  a  little  touch  of  remorse,  and  wished  she  had 
asked  Dora  to  come  out  some  afternoon  and  bring  her 
dog,  which  poor  Ralph  seemed  so  anxious  to  have.  She 
asked  the  doctor  how  long  he  thought  the  Bannisters 
would  stay  away. 

"  Oh,  we  shall  pick  them  up  as  we  come  back,"  he  said 
"  and  that  will  be  in  about  two  weeks."  And  with  this 
the  busy  man  departed. 

Since  the  beginning  of  his  practice,  Dr.  Tolbridge  had 
never  gone  away  from  Thorbury  for  an  absence  of  any 


LA  FLEUR  LOOKS  FUTUREWARD      307 

considerable  duration  without  first  calling  on  Miss  Pan- 
ney  to  see  if  she  needed  any  attention  from  him  before 
he  left,  and  on  this  occasion  he  determined  not  to  depart 
from  this  custom.  It  is  true,  she  was  very  angry  with 
him,  but  so  far  as  he  could  help  it,  he  would  not  allow 
her  anger  to  interfere  with  the  preservation  of  a  life 
which  he  considered  valuable. 

When  the  old  lady  was  told  that  the  doctor  had  called 
and  had  asked  for  her,  she  stamped  her  foot  and  vowed 
she  would  not  see  him.  Then  her  curiosity  to  know 
what  brought  him  there  triumphed  over  her  resentment, 
and  she  went  down.  Her  reception  of  him  was  cold  and 
severe,  and  she  answered  his  questions  regarding  her 
health  as  if  he  were  a  census-taker,  exhibiting  not  the 
slightest  gratitude  for  his  concern  regarding  her  physi- 
cal well-being,  nor  the  slightest  hesitation  in  giving  him 
information  which  might  enable  him  to  further  said  well- 
being. 

The  doctor  was  as  cool  as  was  his  patient ;  and,  when 
he  had  finished  his  professional  remarks,  informed  her 
that  the  Bannisters  were  to  go  with  him  to  Barport. 
When  Miss  Panney  heard  this  she  sprang  from  her  chair 
with  the  air  of  an  Indian  of  the  Wild  West  bounding 
with  uplifted  tomahawk  upon  a  defenceless  foe.  The 
doctor  involuntarily  pushed  back  his  chair,  but  before 
he  could  make  up  his  mind  whether  he  ought  to  be 
frightened  or  amused.  Miss  Panney  sat  down  as  promptly 
as  she  had  risen,  and  a  grim  smile  appeared  upon  her 
face. 

"How  you  do  make  me  jump  with  your  sudden  an- 


308  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

nouncements,"  she  said.  "I  am  sure  I  am  very  glad 
that  Dora  is  going  away.  She  needed  a  change,  and 
sea  air  is  better  than  anything  else  for  her.  How  long 
will  they  stay  ?  " 

The  slight  trace  of  her  old  cordiality  which  showed 
itself  in  Miss  Panney's  demeanor  through  the  few  re- 
maining minutes  of  the  interview  greatly  pleased  Dr. 
Tolbridge. 

"  She  is  a  good  old  woman  at  heart,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  "and  when  she  gets  into  one  of  her  bad  tempers, 
the  best  way  to  bring  her  around  is  to  interest  her  in 
people  she  loves,  and  Dora  Bannister  is  surely  one  of 
those." 

When  the  doctor  had  gone.  Miss  Panney  gave  herselt 
up  to  a  half  minute  of  unrestrained  laughter,  which 
greatly  surprised  old  Mr.  Witton,  who  happened  to  be 
passing  the  parlor  door.  Then  she  sat  down  to  write 
a  letter  to  Dora  Bannister,  which  she  intended  that 
young  lady  to  receive  soon  after  her  arrival  at  Barport. 

That  afternoon  the  good  La  Fleur  came  to  Cobhurst, 
her  soul  enlivened  by  the  determination  to  show  what 
admirable  meals  could  be  prepared  from  the  most  simple 
materials,  and  with  the  prospect  of  spending  a  fortnight 
with  Mrs.  Drane  and  Cicely,  and  with  that  noble  gentle- 
man, the  master  of  the  estate,  and  to  pass  these  weeks 
in  the  country.  She  was  a  great  lover  of  things  rural : 
she  liked  to  see,  pecking  and  scratching,  the  fowls  with 
which  she  prepared  such  dainty  dishes.  In  her  earlier 
days,  the  sight  of  an  old  hen  wandering  near  a  bed  of 
celery,  with  a  bed  of  beets  in  the  middle  distance,  had 


LA  FLEUR  LOOKS   FUTUREWARD  309 

suggested  the  salad  for  which  she  afterwards  became 
somewhat  famous. 

She  knew  a  great  deal  about  garden  vegetables,  and 
had  been  heard  to  remark  that  brains  were  as  necessary 
in  the  culling  of  fruits  and  roots  and  leaves  and  stems 
as  for  their  culinary  transformation  into  attractions  for 
the  connoisseur's  palate.  She  was  glad,  too,  to  have  the 
opportunity  of  an  occasional  chat  with  that  intelligent 
negro  Mike,  and  so  far  as  she  could  judge,  there  were 
no  objections  to  the  presence  of  Miriam  in  the  house. 

Kalph  did  not  come  back  until  after  La  Fleur  had 
arrived,  and  he  returned  hungry,  and  a  little  more  out 
of  humor  than  when  he  started  away. 

"I  had  hoped,"  he  said  to  Miriam,  "to  get  enough 
birds  to  give  the  new  cook  a  chance  of  showing  her  skill 
in  preparing  a  dish  of  game  for  dinner ;  but  these  two, 
which  I  may  say  I  accidentally  shot,  are  all  I  brought. 
It  is  impossible  to  shoot  without  a  dog,  and  I  think  I 
shall  go  to-morrow  morning  to  see  Miss  Bannister  and 
ask  her  to  let  me  take  Congo  home  with  me.  He  will 
soon  learn  to  know  me,  and  the  woodcock  season  does 
not  last  forever." 

"  But  Dora  will  not  be  at  home,"  said  Miriam  ;  "  she 
goes  to  Barport  to-day  with  the  Tolbridges." 

Ralph  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  and  then  he  shut  it 
again.  It  was  of  no  use  to  say  anything,  and  he  con- 
tented himself  with  a  sigh  as  he  went  to  the  rack  to  put 
up  his  gun.  Miriam  sighed,  too,  and  as  she  did  so,  she 
hoped  that  it  was  the  dog  and  not  Dora  that  Ralph  was 
sighing  about. 


310  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

The  next  morning  there  came  to  Cobhurst  a  man, 
bringing  a  black  setter  and  a  verbal  message  from  Miss 
Bannister  to  the  effect  that  if  Mr.  Haverley  would  tie  up 
the  dog  and  feed  him  himself  for  two  or  three  days  and 
be  kind  to  him,  she  had  no  doubt  Congo  would  soon 
know  him  as  his  master. 

"  Now  that  is  the  kind  of  a  girl  I  like,"  said  Ralph  to 
his  sister.  "  She  promises  to  do  a  thing  and  she  does  it, 
even  if  the  other  party  is  not  prompt  in  stepping  forward- 
to  attend  to  his  share  of  the  affair." 

There  was  nothing  to  say  against  this,  and  Miriam  said 
nothing,  but  contented  herself  with  admiring  the  dog, 
which  was  worthy  of  all  the  praise  she  could  give  him. 
Congo  was  tied  up,  and  Mike  and  Mrs.  Drane  and  Cicely, 
and  finally  La  Fleur,  came  to  look  at  him  and  to  speak 
well  of  him.  When  all  had  gone  away  but  the  colored 
man  and  the  cook,  the  latter  asked  why  Miss  Bannister 
had  been  mentioned  in  connection  with  this  dog. 

"  'Cause  he  was  her  dog,"  said  Mike.  "  She  got  him 
when  he  was  a  little  puppy  no  bigger  nor  a  cat,  an'  you'd 
a  thought,  to  see  her  carry  him  about  an'  put  him  in  a 
little  bed  an'  kiver  him  up  o'  night  an'  talk  to  him  like  a 
human  bein',  that  she  loved  him  as  much  as  if  he'd  been 
a  little  baby  brother ;  an'  she's  thought  all  the  world  of 
him,  straight  'long  until  now,  an'  she's  gone  an'  give  him 
to  Mr.  Hav'ley." 

La  Fleur  reflected  for  a  moment. 

"  Are  you  sure,  Mike,"  she  asked,  "  that  they  are  not 
engaged  ?  " 

"I'm  dead  sartain  sure  of  it,"  he  said.     "His  sister 


LA  FLBUR  LOOKS  FUTUKEWARD      311 

told  me  so  with  her  own  lips.  Givin'  dogs  don't  mean 
nothin',  Mrs.  Flower.  If  people  married  all  the  people 
they  give  dogs  to,  there'd  be  an  awful  mix  in  this  world. 
Bless  my  soul,  I'd  have  about  eight  wives  my  own  self." 

La  Fleur  smiled  at  Mike's  philosophy,  and  applied  his 
information  to  the  comfort  of  her  mind. 

"  If  his  sister  says  they  are  not  engaged,"  she  thought, 
"  it's  like  they  are  not,  but  it  looks  to  me  as  if  it  were 
time  to  take  the  Bannister  pot  off  the  fire." 

La  Fleur  now  retired  to  a  seat  under  a  tree  near  the 
kitchen  door,  and  applied  her  intellect  to  the  considera- 
tion of  the  dinner,  and  the  future  of  the  Drane  family 
and  herself.  The  present  state  of  affairs  suited  her  ad- 
mirably. She  could  desire  no  change  in  it,  except  that 
Mr.  Haverley  should  marry  Miss  Cicely  in  order  to  give 
security  to  the  situation.  For  herself,  this  was  the  place 
above  all  others  at  which  she  would  like  to  live,  and  a 
mistress  such  as  Miss  Cicely,  who  knew  little  of  domestic 
affairs,  but  appreciated  everything  that  was  well  done, 
was  the  mistress  she  would  like  to  serve.  She  would  be 
sorry  to  leave  the  good  doctor,  for  whom,  as  a  man  of 
intellect,  she  had  an  earnest  sympathy,  but  he  did  not 
live  in  the  country,  and  the  Dranes  were  nearer  and 
dearer  to  her  than  he  was.  He  should  not  be  deserted 
nor  neglected.  If  she  came  to  spend  the  rest  of  her  life 
on  this  fine  old  estate,  she  would  engage  for  him  a  good 
young  cook,  who  would  be  carefully  instructed  by  her  in 
regard  to  the  peculiarities  of  his  diet,  and  who  should 
always  be  under  her  supervision.  She  would  get  him 
one  from  England  j  she  knew  of  several  there  who  had 


312  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

been  her  kitchen  maids,  and  she  would  guarantee  that 
the  one  she  selected  would  give  satisfaction. 

Having  settled  this  part  of  her  plan,  she  now  began  to 
ponder  upon  that  important  feature  of  it  which  con- 
cerned the  marriage  of  Miss  Cicely  with  Ralph  Haverley. 
Why,  under  the  circumstances,  this  should  not  take  place 
as  a  mere  matter  of  course  and  as  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world,  she  could  not  imagine.  But  in  all  countries 
young  people  are  very  odd,  and  must  be  managed.  She 
had  not  yet  had  any  good  opportunity  of  judging  of  the 
relations  between  these  two ;  she  had  noticed  that  they 
were  on  very  easy  and  friendly  terms  with  each  other, 
but  this  was  not  enough.  It  might  be  a  long  time  before 
people  who  were  jolly  good  friends  came  to  look  upon 
each  other  from  a  marrying  point  of  view.  Things  ought 
to  be  hurried  up ;  that  Miss  Bannister  would  be  away 
for  two  weeks;  she.  La  Fleur,  would  be  here  for  two 
weeks.  She  must  try  what  she  could  do ;  the  fire  must 
be  brightened,  —  the  draught  turned  on,  ashes  raked  out, 
kindling-wood  thrust  in  if  necessary,  to  make  things 
hotter.  At  all  events  the  dinner-bell  must  ring  at  the 
appointed  time,  in  a  fortnight,  less  one  day. 

Ralph  came  striding  across  the  lawn,  and  noticing  La 
Fleur,  approached  her. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said,  "  for  I  want  to  tell 
you  how  much  I  enjoyed  your  beefsteak  this  morning. 
One  could  not  get  anything  better  cooked  than  that  at 
Delmonico's.     The  dinner  last  night  was  very  good,  too." 

"  Oh,  don't  mention  that,  sir,"  said  La  Fleur,  who  had 
risen  the  moment  she  saw  him,  and  now  stood  with  her 


LA  FLBUR  LOOKS  FUTUREWARD      313 

head  on  one  side,  her  eyes  cast  down,  and  a  long  smile 
on  her  face.  "  That  dinner  was  nothing  to  what  I  shall 
give  you  when  Miss  Miriam  has  sent  for  some  things 
from  the  town  which  I  want.  And  as  for  the  steak,  I 
beg  you  will  not  judge  me  until  I  have  got  for  myself 
the  cuts  I  want  from  the  butcher.  Then  you  shall  see, 
sir,  what  I  can  do  for  you.  In  a  beautiful  home  like 
this,  Mr.  Haverley,  the  cooking  should  be  of  the  noblest 
and  best." 

Ealph  laughed. 

"  So  long  as  you  stay  with  us,  La  Fleur,"  he  said,  "  I 
am  sure  Cobhurst  will  have  all  it  deserves  in  that 
respect." 

"Thank  you  very  much,  sir,"  she  said,  dropping  a 
little  courtesy.  Then,  raising  her  eyes,  she  cast  them 
over  the  landscape  and  bent  them  again  with  a  little 
sigh. 

"  You  are  a  gentleman  of  feeling,  Mr.  Haverley,"  she 
said,  "  and  can  understand  the  feelings  of  another,  even 
if  she  be  an  old  woman  and  a  cook,  and  I  know  you  can 
comprehend  my  sentiments  when  I  find  myself  again 
serving  my  most  gracious  former  mistress  Mrs.  Drane, 
and  her  lovely  daughter,  whose  beautiful  qualities  of 
mind  and  soul  it  does  not  become  me  to  speak  of  to  you, 
sir.  They  were  most  kind  to  me  when  I  first  came  to 
this  country,  she  and  her  daughter,  two  angels,  sir,  whom 
C  would  serve  forever.  Do  not  think,  sir,  that  I  would 
not  gladly  serve  you  and  your  lady  sister,  but  they  are 
above  all.  It  was  last  night,  sir,  as  I  sat  looking  out  of 
xaj  window  at  the  beautifi^l  trees  in  the  nioonlight,  and 


314  THE   GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

I  have  not  seen  such  trees  in  the  moonlight  since  I  lived 
in  the  Isle  of  Wight  at  Lord  Monkley's  country  house 
there ;  La  Fleur  was  his  chef,  and  I  was  only  there  on  a 
visit,  because  at  that  time  I  was  attending  to  the  educa- 
tion of  my  boy,  who  died  a  year  afterward;  and  I 
thought  then,  sir,  looking  out  at  the  moonlight,  that  I 
would  go  with  the  Dranes  wherever  they  might  go,  and 
I  would  live  with  them  wherever  they  might  live ;  that 
I  would  serve  them  always  with  the  best  I  could  do,  and 
that  none  could  do  better.  But  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir, 
for  standing  here,  and  talking  in  this  way,  sir,"  and  with 
a  little  courtesy  and  with  her  head  more  on  one  side  and 
more  bowed  down,  she  shuffled  away. 

"Now  then,''  said  she  to  herself,  as  she  entered  the 
kitchen,  "  if  I  have  given  him  a  notion  of  a  wife  with  a 
first-class  cook  attached,  it  is  a  good  bit  of  work  to  begin 
with." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

A   PLAN   WHICH   SEEMS   TO   SUIT  EVERYBODY 

Since  her  drive  home  from  Thorbury  with  Ealph 
Haverley,  Cicely  Drane  had  not  ceased  to  consider  the 
hypothesis  which  had  been  suggested  to  her  that  day  by 
La  rieur ;  but  this  consideration  was  accompanied  by  no 
plan  of  action,  no  defined  hopes,  no  fears,  no  suspicions, 
and  no  change  in  her  manner  toward  the  young  man, 
except  that  in  accordance  with  her  mother's  prudential 
notions,  which  had  been  indicated  to  her  in  a  somewhat 


A  PLAN  WHICH  SUITS  EVERYBODY  315 

general  way,  she  had  restricted  herself  in  the  matter  of 
t§te-a-t§tes  and  dual  rambles. 

She  looked  upon  the  relations  between  Kalph  and  her- 
self in  the  most  simple  and  natural  manner  possible. 
She  was  enjoying  life  at  Cobhurst.  It  delighted  her 
to  see  her  mother  so  contented  and  so  well.  She  was 
greatly  interested  in  her  work,  for  she  was  a  girl  of  keen 
intelligence,  and  thoroughly  appreciated  and  enjoyed  the 
novel  theories  and  reflections  of  Dr.  Tolbridge.  She 
thought  it  the  j oiliest  thing  in  the  world  to  have  La 
Fleur  here  with  them.  She  was  growing  extremely  fond 
of  Miriam,  who,  although  a  good  deal  younger  than  her- 
self, appeared  to  be  growing  older  with  wonderful  rapid- 
ity, and  every  day  to  b^  growing  nearer  and  dearer  to 
her,  and  she  liked  Ealph  better  than  any  man  she  had 
ever  met.  She  knew  but  little  of  Dora  Bannister  and 
had  no  reason  to  suppose  that  any  matrimonial  connec- 
tion between  her  and  Mr.  Haverley  had  ever  been 
thought  of;  in  fact,  in  the  sincerity  and  naturalness  of 
her  disposition,  she  could  see  no  reason  why  she  should 
not  continue  to  like  Mr.  Haverley,  to  like  him  better  and 
better,  if  he  gave  her  reason  to  do  so,  and  more  than 
that,  not  to  forget  the  hypothesis  regarding  him. 

La  Fleur  was  not  capable  of  comprehending  the  situa- 
tion with  the  sagacity  and  insight  of  Miss  Panney,  but 
she  was  a  woman  of  sense,  and  was  now  well  convinced 
that  it  would  never  do  to  speak  again  to  Miss  Cicely  in 
the  way  she  had  spoken  to  her  in  Dr.  Tolbridge's  hall. 
In  her  affection  and  enthusiasm,  she  had  gone  too  far 
that  time,  and  she  knew  that  any  further  suggestions  qi 


316  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

the  sort  would  be  apt  to  make  the  girl  fly  away  like  a 
startled  bird.  Whatever  was  to  be  done  must  be  done 
without  the  cooperation  of  the  young  lady. 

Miss  Panney's  letter  to  Dora  Bannister  contained 
some  mild  reproaches  for  the  latter's  departure  from 
Thorbury  without  notice  to  her  oldest  friend,  but  her 
scolding  was  not  severe,  and  there  was  as  much  pleasant 
information  and  inquiry  as  the  writer  could  think  of. 
Moreover,  the  epistle  contained  the  suggestion  that  Dora 
should  invite  Miriam  Haverley  to  come  down  and  spend 
some  time  with  her  while  she  was  at  the  seashore.  This 
suggestion  none  but  a  very  old  friend  would  be  likely  to 
make,  but  Miss  Panney  was  old  enough  for  anything,  in 
friendship  or  in  any  other  way. 

"My  mind  was  on  Miriam  Haverley,"  the  old  lady 
wrote,  "at  the  moment  I  heard  that  you  had  gone  to 
Barport,  and  it  struck  me  that  a  trip  of  the  sort  is 
exactly  what  that  young  person  needs.  She  is  shut  up 
in  the  narrowest  place  in  which  a  girl  can  be  put,  with 
responsibilities  entirely  beyond  her  years,  and  which 
help  to  cramp  her  mind  and  her  ideas.  She  should  have 
a  total  change ;  she  should  see  how  the  world,  outside  of 
her  school  and  her  country  home,  lives  and  acts  —  in 
fact,  she  needs  exactly  what  Barport  and  you  and  Mrs. 
Bannister  can  give  her.  I  do  not  believe  that  you  can 
bestow  a  greater  benefit  upon  a  fellow-being  than  to  ask 
Miriam  to  pay  you  a  visit  while  you  are  at  the  seaside. 
Think  of  this,  I  beg  of  you,  my  dear  Dora." 

This  letter  was  read  and  re-read  with  earnest  attention. 
Dora  was  f oud  of  Miriam  in  a  way,  and  would  be  very 


A  PLAN  WHICH  StJITS  EVERYBODY  317 

glad  to  give  her  a  glimpse  of  seaside  life.  Moreover, 
Miriam's  companionship  would  be  desirable ;  for  although 
Miss  Bannister  did  not  expect  to  lack  acquaintances, 
there  would  be  times  when  she  could  not  call  upon  these, 
and  Miriam  could  always  be  called  upon. 

After  a  consultation  with  Mrs.  Bannister,  who  was 
pleased  with  the  idea  of  having  some  one  to  go  about 
with  Dora,  when  she  did  not  feel  like  it,  —  which  was 
almost  all  the  time,  —  Dora  wrote  to  Miriam,  asking 
her  to  come  and  visit  her  during  the  rest  of  her  stay 
at  Barport.  While  writing,  Dora  was  not  at  all  an- 
noyed by  the  thought  which  made  her  stop  for  a  few 
minutes  and  look  out  of  the  window, — that  possibly 
Miriam  might  not  like  to  make  the  journey  alone,  and 
that  her  brother  might  come  with  her.  She  did  not, 
however,  mention  this  contingency,  but  smiled  as  she 
went  on  writing. 

Miriam,  attired  in  her  teaberry  gown,  came  up  from 
the  Cobhurst  kitchen,  and  walked  out  toward  the  gar- 
den. She  was  not  in  good  spirits.  She  had  already 
found  that  La  Fleur  was  a  woman  superior  to  influ- 
ences from  any  power  derived  from  the  wearing  of 
Judith  Pacewalk's  pink  chintz  dress.  She  was  con- 
vinced that  at  this  moment  that  eminent  cook  was 
preparing  a  dinner  for  the  benefit  of  the  Dranes,  with- 
out any  thought  of  the  tastes  or  desires  of  the  mistress 
of  the  house  or  its  master.  And  yet  she  could  find 
nothing  to  say  in  opposition  to  this ;  consequently,  she 
had  walked  away  unprotesting,  and  that  act  was  so 
contrary  to  her  disposition  that  it  saddened  her.     If 


818  THE  eiRL  A1?  COBHURST 

she  had  supposed  that  a  bad  meal  would  be  the  result 
of  the  bland  autocracy  she  had  just  encountered,  she 
would  have  been  better  satisfied ;  but,  as  she  knew  the 
case  would  be  quite  otherwise,  her  spirits  continued  to 
fall.  Even  the  meat,  that  morning,  had  been  ordered 
without  consultation  with  her. 

As  Miriam  walked  dolefully  toward  the  garden  gate, 
Ralph  came  riding  from  Thorbury  with  the  mail-bag, 
and  in  it  was  the  letter  from  Dora. 

"Oh,  Ralph!"  cried  Miriam,  when,  with  her  young 
soul  glowing  in  her  face,  she  thrust  the  open  letter 
into  her  brother's  hand,  "may  I  go?  I  never  saw 
the  sea ! " 

Of  Ralph's  decision  there  could  be  no  question,  and 
the  Cobhurst  family  was  instantly  in  a  flurry.  Mrs. 
Drane,  Cicely,  and  Miriam  gave  all  their  thoughts  and 
every  available  moment  of  time  to  the  work  necessary 
on  the  simple  outfit  that  was  all  that  Miriam  needed 
or  desired;  and  in  two  days  she  was  ready  for  the 
journey.  Ralph  was  glad  to  do  anything  he  could  to 
help  in  the  good  work,  but,  as  this  was  little,  he  was 
obliged  to  content  himself  with  encomiums  upon  the 
noble  character  of  Dora  Bannister.  That  she  should 
even  think  of  offering  such  an  inexpressible  delight 
and  benefit  to  his  sister  was  sufiicient  proof  of  Miss 
Bannister's  solid  worth  and  tender,  gracious  nature.. 
These  remarks  made  to  the  ladies  in  general  really  did 
help  in  the  good  work,  for,  while  Ralph  was  talking 
in  this  way.  Cicely  bent  more  earnestly  over  her  sewing 
and  stitched  faster.     Until  now,  she  had  never  thought 


A  PLAN  WHICH  SUITS  EVERYBODY  319 

mucli  about  Miss  Bannister  j  but,  without  intending  it, 
or  in  the  least  desiring  it,  she  began  to  think  a  good 
deal  about  her,  even  when  Ralph  was  not  there. 

Miriam  herself  settled  the  manner  of  her  journey. 
She  had  thought  for  a  moment  of  Ralph  as  an  escort, 
but  this  would  cause  him  trouble  and  loss  of  time, 
which  was  not  at  all  necessary,  and  —  what  was  very 
important  —  would  at  least  double  the  expenses  of  the 
trip ;  so  she  wrote  to  Miss  Pender,  the  head  teacher  in 
her  late  school,  begging  that  she  might  come  to  her 
and  be  shipped  to  Barport.  Miss  Pender  had  great 
skill  and  experience  in  the  shipping  of  girls  from  the 
school  to  destinations  in  all  parts  of  the  country.  De- 
spatched by  Miss  Pender,  the  wildest  or  the  vaguest 
school-girl  would  go  safely  to  her  home,  or  to  whatever 
spot  she  might  be  sent. 

As  this  was  vacation,  and  she  happened  to  be  resting 
idly  at  school,  Miss  Pender  gladly  undertook  the  con- 
genial task  offered  her;  and  welcomed  Miriam,  and 
then  shipped  her  to  Barport  with  even  more  than  her 
usual  success. 

When  the  dear  girl  had  gone,  everybody  greatly 
missed  her, — even  La  Fleur,  for  of  certain  sweets  the 
child  had  eaten  twice  as  much  as  any  one  else  in  the 
house.  But  all  were  happy  over  her  great  pleasure, 
including  the  cook,  who  hated  to  have  even  the  nicest 
girls  come  into  her  kitchen. 

Thus  far  Miss  Panney^s  plan  worked  admirably,  but 
one  idea  she  had  in  regard  to  Miriam's  departure  never 
came  into  the  mind  of  any  one  at  Cobhurst.     That  the 


820  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

Dranes  should  go  away  because  Miriam,  as  mistress  of 
the  establishment,  was  gone,  was  not  thought  of  for 
an  instant.  With  La  Fleur  and  Mrs.  Drane  in  the 
house,  was  there  any  reason  why  domestic  and  all 
other  affairs  should  not  go  on  as  usual  during  Miriam^s 
brief  absence? 

Everything  did  indeed  go  on  pretty  much  as  it  had 
gone  on  before,  although  it  might  have  been  thought 
that  Ralph  was  now  living  with  the  Dranes.  La  Fleur 
expanded  herself  into  all  departments  of  the  household, 
and  insisted  upon  doing  many  little  things  that  Cicely 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  for  herself  and  her 
mother;  and,  with  the  assistance  of  Mike,  who  was 
always  glad  to  help  the  good  Mrs.  Flower  whenever  she 
wanted  him  —  which  was  always  —  and  did  it  whenever 
he  had  a  chance  —  which  was  often  —  the  household 
wheels  moved  smoothly. 

In  one  feature  of  the  life  at  Cobhurst  there  was  a 
change.  The  absence  of  Miriam  threw  Cicely  and  Ralph 
much  more  together.  For  instance,  they  breakfasted  by 
themselves,  for  Mrs.  Drane  had  always  been  late  in 
coming  down  in  the  morning,  and  it  was  difficult  for  her 
to  change  her  habits.  Moreover,  it  now  happened  fre- 
quently that  Cicely  and  Ralph  found  that  each  must  be 
the  sole  companion  of  the  other ;  and  in  this  regard  more 
than  in  any  other  was  Miriam  missed.  But  to  say  that 
in  this  regard  more  than  any  other  her  absence  was  re- 
gretted would  be  inaccurate. 

Cicely  felt  that  she  ought  to  regret  it,  but  she  did  not. 
To  be  so  much  with  Ralph  was  contrary  to  her  own 


A  PLAN   WHICH  SUITS  EVERYBODY  321 

plans  of  action,  and  to  what  she  believed  to  be  her 
mother's  notions  on  the  subject ;  but  she  could  not  help 
it  without  being  rude  to  the  young  man,  and  this  she 
did  not  intend  to  be.  He  was  lonely  and  wanted  a  com- 
panion ;  and  in  truth,  she  was  glad  to  fill  the  position. 
If  he  had  not  talked  to  her  so  much  about  Dora  Bannis- 
ter's great  goodness,  she  would  have  been  better  pleased. 
But  she  could  nearly  always  turn  this  sort  of  conversa- 
tion upon  Miriam's  virtues,  and  on  that  subject  the  two 
were  in  perfect  accord. 

Mrs.  Drane  intended  now  to  get  up  sooner  in  the 
morning,  but  she  did  not  do  it;  and  she  resolved  that 
she  would  not  drop  asleep  in  her  chair  early  in  the  even- 
ing, as  she  had  felt  perfectly  free  to  do  when  Miriam 
was  with  them ;  but  she  calmly  dozed  all  the  same. 

There  was  another  obstacle  to  Mrs.  Drane's  good  in- 
tentions, of  which  she  knew  nothing.  This  was  the 
craft  of  La  Fleur,  who  frequently  made  it  a  point  to 
call  upon  the  good  lady  for  advice  or  consultation,  and 
who  was  most  apt  to  do  this  at  times  when  her  interview 
with  Mrs.  Drane  would  leave  Ralph  and  Cicely  together. 
It  was  wonderful  how  skilfully  this  accomplished  culi- 
nary artist  planned  some  of  these  situations. 

Ralph  was  surprised  to  find  that  he  could  so  well  bear 
the  absence  of  his  sister.  He  would  not  have  believed 
it  had  he  been  told  it  in  advance.  He  considered  it  a 
great  piece  of  luck  that  Miriam  should  be  able  to  go  to 
the  seashore,  but  it  was  also  wonderful  luck  that  Miss 
Drane  should  happen  to  be  here  while  Miriam  was  away. 
Had  both  gone,  he  would  have  had  a  doleful  time  of  it. 


322  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

As  it  was,  his  time  was  not  at  all  doleful.  All  the. 
chickens,  hens,  cats,  calves,  and  flowers  that  Miriam  had 
had  under  her  especial  care  were  now  attended  to  most 
sedulously  by  Cicely,  and  in  these  good  works  Ealph 
gave  willing  and  constant >  assistance.  In  fact,  he  found 
that  he  could  do  a  great  deal  more  for  Cicely  than 
Miriam  had  been  willing  he  should  do  for  her.  This 
cooperation  was  very  pleasing  to  him,  for  Cicely  was  a 
girl  who  knew  little  about  things  rural  but  wanted  to 
know  much,  and  Ealph  was  a  young  fellow  who  liked  to 
teach  such  girls  as  Cicely. 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

MISS    PANNEY    HAS    TEETH    ENOUGH    LEFT    TO    BITE   WITH 

After  her  recent  quick  pull  and  strong  pull,  Miss 
Panney  rested  placidly  on  her  oars.  She  knew  that 
Miriam  had  gone,  but  she  had  not  yet  heard  whether 
the  Dranes  had  returned  to  their  former  lodging  in 
Thorbury,  or  had  left  the  neighborhood  altogether.  She 
presumed,  however,  that  they  were  in  the  town ;  for  the 
young  woman's  work  for  Dr.  Tolbridge  was  probably  not 
completed.  She  intended  to  call  on  Mrs.  Brinkly  and 
find  out  about  this ;  and  she  also  determined  to  drop  in 
at  Cobhurst,  and  see  how  poor  Ralph  was  getting  on 
by  himself.     But  for  these  things  there  was  no  hurry. 

But  jogging  into  town  one  morning,  she  was  amazed 
to  meet  Ralph  and  Mrs.  Drane  returning  to  Cobhurst  in 


MISS  PANNBY  HAS  TEETH  LEFT  TO  BITE  WITH     323 

the  gig.  Both  vehicles  stopped,  and  Ralph  immediately 
began  to  tell  the  old  lady  of  Miriam's  good  fortune. 
He  told,  also,  of  his  own  good  fortune  in  having  Mrs. 
Drane  and  her  daughter  to  run  the  house  during 
Miriam's  absence,  and  was  in  high  good  spirits  and 
glad  to  talk. 

Miss  Panney  listened  with  rigid  attention ;  but  when 
Ralph  had  finished,  she  asked  Mrs.  Drane  if  she  had 
left  her  daughter  alone  at  Cobhurst,  while  she  and  Mr. 
Haverley  came  to  town. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  the  other  lady ;  "  Cicely  is  there, 
and  hard  at  work  j  but  she  is  not  alone.  You  know  our 
good  La  Fleur  is  with  us,  and  will  remain  as  long  as  the 
doctor  and  Mrs.  Tolbridge  are  away." 

When  Miss  Panney  received  this  last  bit  of  informa- 
tion, she  gazed  intently  at  Mrs.  Drane  and  then  at 
Ralph,  after  which  she  bade  them  good  morning,  and 
drove  off. 

"The  old  lady  is  not  in  such  jolly  good  humor  as 
when  she  lunched  with  us  the  other  day,"  said  Ralph. 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Drane ;  "  but  I  have  noticed 
that  very  elderly  people  are  apt  to  be  moody." 

Twice  in  the  course  of  a  year  Miss  Panney  allowed 
herself  to  swear,  if  there  happened  to  be  occasion  for  it. 
In  her  young  days  a  lady  of  fashion  would  sometimes 
swear  with  great  effect;  and  Miss  Panney  did  not  en- 
tirely give  up  any  old  fashion  that  she  liked.  Now,  there 
being  good  reason  for  it,  and  no  one  in  sight,  she  swore, 
and  directed  her  objurgations  against  herself.  Then  her 
mind,  somewhat  relieved  from  the  strain  upon  it,  took 


324  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHtJRST 

in  the  humorous  points  of  the  situation,  and  she  laughed 
outright. 

"If  the  Dranes  had  hired  some  sharp-witted  rogue  to 
help  them  carry  out  their  designs,  he  could  not  have 
done  it  better  than  I  have  done  it.  I  have  simply  put 
the  whole  game  into  their  hands  j  I  have  given  them 
everything  they  want." 

But  before  she  reached  Thorbury,  she  saw  that  the 
situation  was  not  hopeless.  There  was  one  thing  that 
might  be  done,  and  that  successfully  accomplished  the 
game  would  be  in  her  hands.  Ralph  must  be  made 
to  go  to  Barport.  A  few  days  with  Dora  at  the  seaside, 
with  some  astute  person  there  to  manage  the  affair, 
would  settle  the  fate  of  Mr.  Ralph  Haverley.  At  this 
thought  her  eyes  sparkled,  and  she  began  to  feel  hungry. 
At  this  important  moment  she  did  not  wish  to  occupy 
her  mind  with  prattle  and  chat,  and  therefore  departed 
from  her  usual  custom  of  lunching  with  a  friend  or 
acquaintance.  Pitching  her  roan  mare  in  front  of  a 
confectionery  shop,  she  entered  for  refreshment. 

Seated  at  a  little  table  in  the  back  room,  with  a  cup  of 
tea  and  some  sandwiches  before  her.  Miss  Panney  took 
more  time  over  her  slight  meal  than  any  previous  cus- 
tomer had  ever  occupied  in  disposing  of  a  similar  repast,  at 
least  so  the  girl  at  the  counter  believed  and  averred  to  the 
colored  man  who  did  outside  errands.  The  girl  thought 
that  the  old  lady's  deliberate  method  of  eating  pro- 
ceeded from  her  want  of  teeth ;  but  the  man  who  had 
waited  at  dinners  where  Miss  Panney  was  a  guest  con- 
temptuously repudiated  this  assumption. 


MISS  PANNEY  HAS  TEETH  LEFT  TO  BITE  WITH     325 

"  I've  seen  her  eat,"  said  he,  "  and  she's  never  be- 
hind nobody.  She's  got  all  the  teeth  she  wants  for 
bitin'." 

"  Then  why  doesn't  she  get  through  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 
"  When  is  she  ever  going  to  leave  that  table  ?  " 

"When  she  gits  ready,"  answered  the  man;  "that's 
the  time  Miss  Panney  does  everything." 

Sipping  her  tea  and  nibbling  her  sandwich.  Miss 
Panney  considered  the  situation.  It  would  be,  of 
course,  a  difficult  thing  to  get  that  young  man  to  visit 
his  sister  at  Barport.  It  would  cost  money,  and  there 
would  seem  to  be  no  good  reason  for  his  going.  Of 
course  no  such  influence  could  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
him  at  this  end  of  the  line.  Whatever  inducement  was 
offered,  must  be  offered  from  Barport.  And  there  was 
no  one  there  who  could  do  it,  at  least  with  the  proper 
effect.  The  girls  would  be  glad  to  have  him  there,  but 
nothing  that  either  of  them  could,  with  propriety,  be 
prompted  to  say,  would  draw  him  into  such  extravagant 
self-gratification.  But  if  she  were  at  Barport,  she  knew 
that  -she  could  send  him  such  an  invitaiiion,  or  sound 
such  a  call  to  him,  that  he  would  be  sure  to  come. 

Accordingly  Miss  Panney  determined  to  go  to  Barport 
without  loss  of  time ;  and  although  she  did  not  know 
what  sort  of  summons  she  should  issue  to  Kalph  after 
she  got  there,  she  did  not  in  the  least  doubt  that  circum- 
stances would  indicate  the  right  thing  to  do.  In  fact, 
she  would  arrange  circumstances  in  such  a  way  that  they 
should  so  indicate. 

Having  arrived  at  this  conclusion^  Miss  Panney  fin- 


326  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

ished  eating  her  sandwich  with  an  earnestness  and 
rapidity  which  convinced  the  astonished  girl  at  the  coun- 
ter that  she  had  all  the  teeth  she  needed  to  bite  with ; 
and  then  she  went  forth  to  convince  other  people  of  the 
same  thing.     On  the  sidewalk  she  met  Phoebe. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Miss  Panney?"  said  that  single- 
minded  colored  woman.  "  I  hain't  seen  you  for  a  long 
time." 

Miss  Panney  returned  the  salutation,  and  stood  for  a 
moment  in  thought. 

"  Phoebe,"  said  she,  "  when  did  you  last  see  Mike  ?  " 

"Well,  now,  really.  Miss  Panney,  I  can't  say,  but  it's 
been  a  mighty  long  time.  He  don't  come  into  town  to 
see  me,  and  I's  too  busy  to  go  way  out  thar.  I  does  the 
minister's  wash  now,  besides  boardin'  him  an'  keepin' 
his  clothes  mended.  An'  then  it's  four  or  five  miles  out 
to  that  farm.  I  can't  'ford  to  hire  no  carriage,  an'  Mike 
ain't  no  right  to  expect  me  to  walk  that  fur." 

"Phoebe,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "you  are  a  lazy  woman 
and  an  undutiful  wife.  It  is  not  four  miles  to  Cobhurst, 
and  you  walk  two  or  three  times  that  distance  every 
day,  gadding  about  town.  You  ought  to  go  out  there  and 
attend  to  Mike's  clothes,  and  see  that  he  is  comfortable, 
instead  of  giving  up  the  little  time  you  do  work  to  that 
minister,  and  everybody  knows  that  the  reason  you  have 
taken  him  to  board  is  that  you  want  to  set  yourself  up 
above  the  rest  of  the  congregation." 

"Good  laws.  Miss  Panney!"  exclaimed  Phoebe,  "I 
don't  see  as  how  anybody  can  think  that!" 

"Well,  I  do,"  replied  the  old  lady,  "and  plenty  of 


MISS   PANNEY  HAS  TEETH  LEFT  TO  BITE  WITH     327 

other  people  besides.  But  as  you  won't  go  out  to  Cob- 
hurst  to  attend  to  your  own  duty,  I  want  you  to  go  there 
to  attend  to  something  for  me.  I  was  going  myself,  but 
I  start  for  the  seashore  to-morrow,  and  have  not  time. 
I  want  to  know  how  that  poor  Mr.  Ealph  is  getting 
along.  Molly  Tooney  has  left,  and  his  sister  is  away, 
and  of  course  those  two  Drane  women  are  temporary 
boarders  and  take  no  care  of  him  or  his  clothes.  To  be 
sure,  there  is  a  woman  there,  but  she  is  that  English- 
French  creature  who  gives  all  her  time  to  fancy  dishes, 
and  I  suppose  never  made  a  bed  or  washed  a  shirt  in  her 
life." 

"That's  so.  Miss  Panney,"  said  Phoebe,  eagerly,  "an* 
I  reckon  it's  a  lot  of  slops  he  has  to  eat  now.  'Tain't 
like  the  good  wholesome  meals  I  gave  him  when  I 
cooked  thar.  An'  as  fur  washin',  if  there's  any  of  that 
done,  I  reckon  Mike  does  it." 

"I  should  not  wonder,"  said  the  old  lady.  "And, 
Phoebe,  I  want  you  to  go  out  there  this  afternoon,  and 
look  over  Mr.  Haverley's  linen,  and  see  what  ought  to  be 
washed  or  mended,  and  take  general  notice  of  how  things 
are  going  on.  I  shall  see  his  sister,  and  I  want  to  report 
the  state  of  affairs  at  her  home.  For  all  I  know,  those 
Dranes  and  their  cook  may  pack  up  and  clear  out  to- 
morrow if  the  notion  takes  them.  Then  you  must  meet 
me  at  the  station  at  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  and 
tell  me  what  you  find  out.  If  things  are  going  all 
wrong,  Mr.  Haverley  will  never  write  to  his  sister  to  dis- 
turb her  mind.  Start  for  Cobhurst  as  soon  as  you  can, 
.  and  I  will  pay  your  carriage  hire  —  no,  I  will  not  do 


328  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

that,  for  I  want  you  to  make  a  good  long  stay,  and  it 
will  cost  too  much,  to  keep  a  hack  waiting.  You  can 
walk  just  as  well  as  not,  and  it  will  do  you  good.  And 
while  you  are  there,  Phoebe,  you  might  take  notice  of 
Miss  Drane.  If  she  has  finished  the  work  she  was  doing 
for  the  doctor,  and  is  just  sitting  about  idly  or  strolling 
around  the  place,  it  is  likely  they  will  soon  leave,  for  if 
the  young  woman  does  not  work  they  cannot  afford  to 
stay  there.  And  that  is  a  thing  Miss  Miriam  ought  to 
know  all  about." 

"  Seems  to  me,  Miss  Panney,"  said  the  colored  woman, 
"that  'twould  be  a  mighty  good  thing  for  Mr.  Hav'ley 
to  get  married.  An*  thar's  that  Miss  Drane  right  thar 
already." 

"What  stupid  nonsense!"  exclaimed  Miss  Panney. 
*  I  thought  you  had  more  sense  than  to  imagine  such  a 
thing  as  that.  She  is  not  in  any  way  suitable  for  him. 
She  is  a  poor  little  thing  who  has  to  earn  her  own  living, 
and  her  mother's  too.  She  is  not  in  the  least  fit  to  be 
the  mistress  of  that  place." 

"  Don't  see  whar  he'll  get  a  wife,  then,"  said  Phoebe. 
"  He  never  goes  nowhar,  and  never  sees  nobody,  except 
p'r'aps  Miss  Dora  Bannister;  an'  she's  too  high  an' 
mighty  for  him." 

"  Phoebe,  you  are  stupider  than  I  thought  you  were. 
No  lady  is  too  high  and  mighty  for  Mr.  Haverley.  And 
if  he  should  happen  to  fancy  Miss  Dora,  it  will  be  a 
capital  match.  What  he  needs  is  to  marry  a  woman  of 
position  and  means.  But  that  is  not  my  business,  or 
yours  either,  a,nd  by  the  way,  Phoebe,  since  jou  are  here. 


MISS   PANNEY  HAS  TEETH  LEFT  TO  BITE  WITH      329 

I  will  get  you  to  take  a  letter  to  the  post-office  for  me. 
I  will  go  back  into  this  shop  and  write  it.  You  can  take 
these  two  cents  and  buy  an  envelope  and  a  sheet  of 
paper,  and  bring  them  in  to  me." 

With  this  Miss  Panney  walked  into  the  shop,  and  hav- 
ing asked  the  loan  of  pen  and  ink,  horrified  the  girl  at 
the  counter  by  proceeding  to  the  table  she  had  left, 
which,  in  a  corner  favored  by  all  customers,  had  just 
been  prepared  for  the  next  comer,  and,  having  pushed 
aside  a  knife  and  fork  and  plate,  made  herself  ready  to 
write  her  letter,  which  was  to  a  friend  in  Barport,  in- 
forming her  that  the  writer  intended  making  her  a  visit. 

"  I  shall  get  there,"  she  thought,  "  about  as  soon  as  it 
does,  but  it  looks  better  to  write." 

Before  the  letter  was  finished,  Phoebe  was  nearly  as 
angry  as  the  shop-girl;  but  at  last,  with  exactly  two 
cents  with  which  to  buy  a  stamp,  she  departed  for  the 
post-office. 

"  The  stingy  old  thing ! "  she  said  to  herself  as  she 
left  the  shop;  "not  a  cent  for  myself,  and  makes  me 
walk  all  the  way  out  to  that  Cobharst,  too !  I  see  what 
that  old  woman  is  up  to.  She's  afraid  he'll  marry  the 
young  lady  what's  out  thar,  an'  she  wants  him  to  marry 
Miss  Dora,  an'  git  a  lot  of  the  Bannister  money  to  fix  up 
his  old  house,  an'  then  she  expects  to  go  out  thar  an' 
board  with  'em,  for  I  reckon  she's  gittin'  mighty  tired  of 
the  way  them  Wittons  live.  She's  always  patchin'  up 
marriages  so  she  can  go  an'  live  with  the  people  when 
they  first  begins  housekeepin',  an'  things  is  bran-new  an' 
fresh.     She  did  that  with  young  Mr.  Witton,  but  thei:f 


330  THE  GIRL   AT  COBHURST 

furniture  is  gittin'  pretty  old  an'  worn  out  now.  If  she 
tries  it  with  Mr.  Hav'ley  an'  Dora  Bannister,  I  reckon 
she'll  make  as  big  a  botch  of  it  as  she  did  with  Mike  an' 
me." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

A    CRY   FROM    THE    SEA 


Miss  Pannet  left  Thorbury  the  next  morning,  but  she 
had  to  go  without  seeing  Phoebe,  who  did  not  appear  at 
the  station.  She  arrived  at  Barport  in  the  afternoon, 
and  went  directly  to  the  house  of  the  friend  to  whom  she 
had  written,  and  who,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  was  glad  to  see 
her.  She  deferred  making  her  presence  known  to  the 
Bannister  party  until  the  next  morning.  When  she 
called  at  their  hotel  about  ten  o'clock,  she  was  informed 
that  they  had  all  gone  down  to  the  beach ;  and  as  they 
could  not  be  expected  to  return  very  soon,  Miss  Panney 
betook  herself  to  the  ocean's  edge  to  look  for  them. 

She  found  a  wide  stretch  of  sand  crowded  with  bathers 
and  spectators.  It  had  been  a  long  time  since  she  had 
visited  the  seashore,  and  she  discovered  that  seaside 
customs  and  costumes  had  changed  very  much.  She 
was  surprised,  amused,  and  at  times  indignant;  but,  as 
she  had  come  to  look  for  the  Bannisters,  she  confined 
herself  to  that  business,  postponing  reflections  and  judg- 
ments. 

Her  search  proved  to  be  a  difficult  one.  She  walked 
up  and  down  the  beach  until  she  assured  herself  that  the 


A   CRY  FROM  THE  SEA  331 

Bannisters  and  Miriam  were  not  among  those  who  had 
come  as  lookers-on,  or  merely  to  breathe  the  salt  air  and 
enjoy  the  ocean  view.  When  she  came  to  scrutinize  the 
bathers,  whether  they  were  disporting  themselves  in  the 
sea  or  standing  or  lying  about  on  the  sand,  she  found  it 
would  be  almost  impossible  to  recognize  anybody  in  that 
motley  crowd. 

"I  can  scarcely  make  out,"  she  said  to  herself,  "whether 
they  are  men  or  women,  much  less  whether  I  know  them 
or  not.  But  if  the  Bannisters  and  Miriam  are  among 
those  water-monkeys,  I  shall  know  them  when  I  see 
their  faces,  and  then  I  shall  take  the  first  chance  I  get 
to  tell  them  what  I  think  of  them." 

It  was  not  long  before  Miss  Panney  began  to  grow 
tired.  She  was  not  used  to  trudging  through  soft  sand, 
and  she  had  walked  a  good  deal  before  she  reached  the 
beach.  She  concluded,  therefore,  to  look  for  a  place 
where  she  might  sit  down  and  rest,  and  if  her  friends 
did  not  show  themselves  in  a  reasonable  time  she  would 
go  back  to  their  hotel  and  wait  for  them  there ;  but  she 
saw  no  chairs  nor  benches,  and  as  for  imitating  the  hun- 
dreds of  well-dressed  people  who  were  sitting  down  in 
the  dirt,  —  for  to  Miss  Panney  sand  was  as  much  dirt  as 
any  other  pulverized  portion  of  the  earth's  surface,  —  she 
had  never  done  such  a  thing,  and  she  did  not  intend  to. 

Approaching  a  boat  which  was  drawn  up  high  and  dry, 
she  seated  herself  upon,  or  rather  leaned  against,  its  side. 
The  bathing-master,  a  burly  fellow  in  a  bathing-costume, 
turned  to  her  and  informed  her  courteously  but  decidedly 
that  she  must  not  sit  upon  that  boat. 


332  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  I  do  not  see  why,"  said  Miss  Panney,  sharply,  as  she 
rose ;  "  for  it  is  not  of  any  use  in  any  other  way,  lying  up 
here  on  the  sand." 

She  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  when  the  bathing- 
master  sprang  to  his  feet  so  suddenly  that  it  made  Miss 
Panney  jump.  For  a  moment  the  man  stood  listening, 
and  then  ran  rapidly  down  the  beach.  Now  Miss  Pan- 
ney heard,  coming  from  the  sea,  a  cry  of  "  Help !  Help ! " 

Other  people  heard  it,  too,  and  began  hurrying  after  the 
bathing-master.  The  cry,  which  was  repeated  again  and 
again,  came  from  a  group  of  bathers  who  were  swimming 
far  from  sKore,  opposite  a  point  on  the  beach  a  hundred 
yards  or  more  from  where  Miss  Panney  was  standing. 
The  spectators  now  became  greatly  excited,  and  crowds 
of  them  began  to  run  along  the  beach,  while  many'peo- 
ple  came  out  of  the  sea  and  joined  the  hurrying  throng. 

Still  the  cries  came  from  the  ocean,  but  they  were  fee- 
bler. Those  experienced  in  such  matters  saw  what  had 
happened;  a  party  of  four  bathers,  swimming  out  beyond 
the  breakers,  had  been  caught  in  what  is  called  a  "  sea- 
puss,"  an  eccentric  current,  too  powerful  for  them  to 
overcome,  and  they  were  unable  to  reach  the  shore. 

As  he  ran,  the  bathing-master  shouted  to  some  men  to 
bring  him  the  life-line,  and  this,  which  was  coiled  in  a 
box  near  the  boat,  was  soon  seized  by  two  swift  runners 
and  carried  out  to  the  man. 

"Fool!"  exclaimed  Miss  Panney,  who,  with  flushed 
face,  was  hurrying  after  the  rest,  "  why  didn't  he  take  it 
with  him  ?  " 

When  the  bathing-master  reached  a  point  opposite  the 


A  CHY  FROM  THE  SEA  333 

imperilled  swimmers,  he  was  obliged  to  wait  a  little  for 
the  life-line,  but  as  soon  as  it  reached  him  he  tied  one 
end  of  it  around  his  waist  and  plunged  into  the  surf. 
The  men  who  had  brought  the  line  did  not  uncoil  it  nor 
even  take  it  out  of  the  box,  and  very  soon  it  was  seen 
that  the  bathing-master  was  not  only  making  his  way 
bravely  through  the  breakers,  but  was  towing  after  him 
the  coil  of  rope,  and  the  box  in  which  it  had  been  entan- 
gled. As  soon  as  he  perceived  this,  the  man  stopped  for 
an  instant,  jerked  the  line  from  his  waist  and  swam  away 
without  it. 

Meanwhile  a  party  of  men  had  seized  the  life-boat,  and 
had  pushed  it  over  the  sand  to  the  water's  edge,  where 
they  launched  it,  and  with  much  difficulty  kept  it  from 
grounding  until  four  young  men,  all  bathers,  jumped  in 
and  manned  the  oars.  But  before  the  excited  oarsmen 
had  begun  to  pull  together,  an  incoming  wave  caught  the 
bow  of  the  boat,  turned  it  broadside  to  the  sea,  and  rolled 
it  over.  A  dozen  men,  however,  seized  the  boat  and 
quickly  righted  her ;  again  the  oarsmen  sprang  in,  and 
having  been  pushed  out  until  the  water  reached  the 
necks  of  the  men  who  ran  beside  her,  she  was  vigorously 
pulled  beyond  the  breakers. 

The  excitement  was  now  intense,  not  only  on  the 
beach,  but  in  the  hotels  near  the  spot,  and  the  shore  was 
black  with  people.  The  cries  had  entirely  ceased,  but 
now  the  bathing-master  was  seen  making  his  way  toward 
the  shore,  and  supporting  a  helpless  form;  before  he 
could  touch  bottom,  however,  he  was  relieved  of  his  bur- 
den by  some  of  the  men  who  were  swimming  out  after 


334  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

him,  and  he  turned  back  toward  a  floating  head  which 
could  just  be  seen  above  the  water.  He  was  a  powerful 
swimmer,  but  without  a  line  by  which  he  and  any  one  he 
might  rescue  could  be  pulled  to  shore,  his  task  was  labo- 
rious and  dangerous. 

The  boat  had  now  pulled  to  the  bather  who,  though 
farthest  out  to  sea,  was  the  best  swimmer,  and  he,  just 
as  his  strength  was  giving  way,  was  hauled  on  board. 
The  life-line  had  been  rescued  and  disentangled,  and  the 
shore  end  of  it  having  been  taken  into  proper  charge,  a 
man,  with  the  other  end  about  him,  swam  to  the  assist- 
ance of  the  bathing-master.  Between  these  two  another 
lifeless  helpless  body  was  borne  in. 

As  might  have  been  supposed.  Miss  Panney  was  now 
in  a  state  of  intense  agitation.  Not  only  did  she  share 
in  the  general  excitement,  but  she  was  filled  with  a  hor- 
rible dread.  In  ordinary  cases  of  sickness  and  danger, 
it  had  been  her  custom  to  offer  her  services  without 
hesitation,  but  then  she  knew  who  were  in  trouble  and 
what  she  must  do.  Now  there  was  a  sickening  mystery 
hanging  over  what  was  happening.  She  was  actually 
afraid  to  go  near  the  two  lifeless  figures  stretched  upon 
the  sand,  each  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  people  eager 
to  do  something  or  see  something. 

But  her  anxious  questioning  of  the  people  who  were 
scattered  about  relieved  her,  for  she  found  that  the  two 
unfortunate  persons  who  had  been  brought  in  were  men. 
Nobody  knew  whether  they  were  alive  or  not,  but  every- 
thing possible  was  being  done  to  revive  them.  Several 
doctors  had  made  their  appearance,  and  messengers  were 


A  CRY  FROM   THE  SEA  336 

running  to  the  hotels  for  brandy,  blankets,  and  other 
things  needed.  In  obedience  to  an  excited  entreaty 
from  a  physician,  one  of  the  groups  surged  outward  and 
scattered  a  little,  and  Miss  Panney  saw  the  form  of  a 
strongly  built  man  lying  on  his  back  on  the  sand,  with 
men  kneeling  around  him,  some  working  his  arms  back- 
ward and  forward  to  induce  respiration,  and  others  rub- 
bing him  vigorously.  It  was  difficult  for  her  to  restrain 
herself  from  giving  help  or  advice,  for  she  was  familiar 
with,  and  took  a  great  interest  in,  all  sorts  of  physical 
distress;  but  now  she  turned  away  and  hurried  toward 
the  sea. 

She  had  heard  the  people  say  there  was  another  one 
out  there,  and  her  sickening  feeling  returned.  She 
walked  but  a  little  way,  and  then  she  stopped  and 
eagerly  watched  what  was  going  on.  The  bathing- 
master  had  been  nearly  exhausted  when  he  reached  the 
shore  the  second  time,  but  he  had  rallied  his  strength 
and  had  swum  out  to  the  boat  which  was  pulling  about 
the  place  where  the  unfortunate  bathers  had  been  swim- 
ming. Suddenly  the  oarsmen  gave  a  quick  pull;  they 
had  seen  something ;  a  man  jumped  overboard ;  there 
was  bustling  on  the  boat;  something  was  pulled  in; 
then  the  boat  was  rapidly  rowed  shoreward,  the  man 
in  the  water  holding  to  the  stern  until  his  feet  touched 
ground. 

The  people  crowded  to  the  water's  edge  so  that  Miss 
Panney  could  scarcely  see  the  boat  when  it  reached 
shore,  but  presently  the  crowd  parted,  and  three  men  ap- 
peared, carrying  what  seemed  to  be  a  very  light  burden. 


336  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHtJRST 

^^  Oh,  dear,"  said  a  woman  standing  by,  "  that  one  was 
in  the  water  a  long  time.  I  wonder  if  it  is  a  girl  or 
a  boy." 

Miss  Panney  said  nothing,  but  made  a  few  quick  steps 
in  the  direction  of  the  limp  figure  which  the  crowd  was 
following  up  the  beach;  then  she  stopped.  Her  nature 
prompted  her  to  go  on;  her  present  feelings  restrained 
her.  She  could  not  help  wondering  at  this,  and  said 
to  herself  that  she  must  be  aging  faster  than  she 
thought.  Her  distant  vision  was  excellent,  and  she 
knew  that  the  inanimate  form  which  was  now  being 
laid  on  the  dry  sand  was  not  a  boy. 

She  turned  and  looked  out  over  the  sea,  but  she  could 
not  stand  still;  she  must  do  something.  On  occasions 
like  this  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  Miss  Panney 
to  do  something.  She  walked  up  the  beach,  but  not 
toward  the  ring  of  people  that  had  now  formed  around 
the  fourth  unfortunate.  She  must  quiet  herself  a  little 
first. 

Suddenly  the  old  lady  raised  her  hands  and  clasped 
them.  It  was  a  usual  gesture  when  she  thought  of 
something  she  ought  to  do. 

"  If  it  is  one  of  them,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  he  ought 
to  know  it  instantly !  And  even  if  it  isn't,  he  ought  to 
know.  They  will  be  in  a  terrible  state ;  somebody 
should  be  here,  and  Herbert  has  gone  to  the  mountains. 
There  is  no  one  else."  She  now  began  to  walk  more 
rapidly.  "Yes,"  she  said,  speaking  aloud  in  the  in- 
tensity of  her  emotion,  "he  ought  to  come,  anyway. 
I  can't  be  left  here  to  take  any  chances.     And  if  he 


A  CRY  I'ROM  THE  SEA  337 

does  not  know  immediately,  he  cannot  get  here  to- 
day." 

She  now  directed  her  steps  toward  one  of  the  hotels, 
where  she  knew  there  was  a  telegraph  office. 

"Ko  matter  what  has  happened,  or  what  has  not 
happened,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  hurried  along, 
^^  he  ought  to  be  here,  and  he  must  come  !  " 

The  old  lady's  hand  trembled  a  good  deal  as  she 
wrote  a  telegram  to  Ralph  Haverley,  but  the  operator 
at  the  window  could  read  it.  It  ran:  "A  dreadful 
disaster  here.     Come  on  immediately." 

When  she  had  finished  this  business,  Miss  Panney 
stood  for  a  few  moments  on  the  broad  piazza  of  the 
hotel,  which  was  deserted,  for  almost  everybody  was 
on  the  beach.  In  spite  of  her  agitation  a  grim  smile 
came  over  her  face. 

"  Perhaps  that  was  a  little  strong,"  she  thought,  "  but 
it  has  gone  now.  And  no  matter  how  he  finds  things, 
I  can  prove  to  him  he  is  needed.  I  do  not  believe  he 
will  be  too  much  frightened ;  men  never  are,  and  I  will 
see  to  it  that  he  has  a  blessed  change  in  his  feelings 
when  he  gets  here." 

Miss  Panney  was  now  allowing  to  enter  her  mind  the 
conviction,  previously  denied  admittance,  that  no  one 
of  her  three  friends  would  be  likely  to  be  swimming 
far  from  shore  with  a  party  of  men.  And,  having  thus 
restored  herself  to  something  of  her  usual  composure, 
she  went  down  to  the  beach  to  find  out  who  had  been 
drowned.  On  the  way  she  met  Mrs.  Bannister  and  the 
two  girls,  and  from  them  she  got  her  information  that 


338  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

two  of  the  persons  were  believed  to  be  beyond  any 
power  of  resuscitation,  and  one  of  these  was  a  young 
lady  from  Boston. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

LA   FLEUR   ASSUMES    RESPONSIBILITIES 

It  was  toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that  the 
good  La  Fleur  sat  upon  a  bench  under  a  tree  by  the  side 
of  the  noble  mansion  of  Cobhurst.  She  was  enjoying  the 
scene  and  allowing  her  mind  to  revel  in  the  future  she 
had  planned  for  herself.  She  was  not  even  thinking  of 
the  dinner.  Presently  there  drove  into  the  grounds  a 
boy  in  a  bowl-shaped  trotting-wagon,  bringing  a  telegram 
for  Mr.  Haverley.     La  Fleur  went  to  meet  him. 

"  He  is  not  at  home,"  she  said. 

"Well,"  said  the  boy,  "there  is  seventy-five  cents  to 
pay,  and  perhaps  there  is  an  answer." 

"  Are  you  sure  the  message  was  not  prepaid  ?  "  asked 
La  Fleur,  suspiciously. 

"  Oh,  the  seventy-five  cents  is  for  delivery,"  said  the 
boy.  "  We  deliver  free  in  town,  but  we  can't  come  way 
out  here  in  the  country  for  nothing.  Isn't  there  some- 
body here  who  can  'tend  to  it  ?  " 

La  Fleur  drew  a  wallet  from  her  pocket.  "  I  will  pay 
you,"  she  said;  "but  if  there  is  an  answer  you  should 
take  it  back  with  you.     Can't  you  wait  a  bit  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  boy,  "  I  can't.  I  shall  be  away  from 
the  office  too  long  as  it  is." 


LA  FLBUR  ASSUMES  RESPONSIBILITIES        339 

La  Fleur  was  in  a  quandary ;  there  was  no  one  at  home 
but  herself ;  a  telegram  is  always  important ;  very  likely 
an  immediate  answer  was  required;  and  here  was  an 
opportunity  to  send  one.  If  the  message  were  from 
his  sister,  there  might  be  something  which  she  could 
answer.  At  any  rate,  it  was  an  affair  that  must  not  be 
neglected,  and  Mr.  Haverley  had  gone  off  with  his  fish- 
ing-rod, and  no  one  knew  when  he  would  get  back. 

"Wait  one  minute,"  she  said  to  the  boy,  and  she 
hurried  into  the  kitchen  with  the  telegram.  She  put  on 
her  spectacles  and  looked  at  it;  the  envelope  was  very 
slightly  fastened.  No  doubt  this  was  something  that 
needed  attention,  and  the  boy  would  not  wait.  Tele- 
grams were  not  like  private  letters,  anyway,  and  she 
would  take  the  risk.  So  she  opened  the  envelope  with- 
out tearing  it,  and  read  the  message.  First  she  was 
frightened,  and  then  she  was  puzzled. 

"  Well,  I  can't  answer  that,"  she  said,  "  and  I  suppose 
he  will  go  as  soon  as  he  gets  it." 

She  laid  the  telegram  on  the  kitchen  table  and  went 
out  to  the  impatient  boy,  and  told  him.  there  was  no 
answer.  Whereupon  he  departed  at  the  top  of  his 
pony's  speed. 

La  Fleur  returned  to  the  kitchen  and  reread  the  tele- 
gram. The  signature  was  not  very  legible,  and  in  her 
first  hasty  reading  she  had  not  made  it  out,  but  now  she 
deciphered  it. 

"  Panney  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  R.  Panney !  I  believe  it 
is  from  that  tricky  old  woman ! "  And  with  her  elbows 
on  the  table  she  gave  herself  up  to  the  study  of  the  tele- 


340  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

gram.  "  I  never  saw  anything  like  it,"  she  thought.  "  It 
looks  exactly  as  if  she  wanted  to  frighten  him  without 
telling  him  what  has  happened.  It  could  not  be  worse 
than  it  is,  even  if  his  sister  is  dead,  and  if  that  were 
so,  anybody  would  telegraph  that  she  was  very  ill,  so  as 
not  to  let  it  come  on  him  too  sudden.  Nothing  can 
be  more  dreadful  than  what  he'll  think  when  he  reads 
this.  One  thing  is  certain :  she  meant  him  to  go  when 
he  got  it.  Yes,  indeed ! "  And  a  smile  came  upon  her 
face  as  she  thought.  "  She  wants  him  there ;  that  is  as 
plain  as  daylight." 

At  this  moment  a  step  was  heard  outside,  and  the  tele- 
gram was  slipped  into  the  table  drawer.  La  Fleur  arose 
and  approached  the  opiBn  door ;  there  she  saw  Phoebe. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  ma'am  ?  "  said  that  individual.  "  Do 
let  me  come  in  an'  sit  down,  for  I'm  nearly  tired  to 
death,  an'  so  cross  that  I'd  like  to  fight  a  cat." 

"  What  has  happened  to  you  ?  "  asked  La  Fleur,  when 
she  and  her  visitor  had  seated  themselves. 

"  Nothin',"  replied  Phoebe,  "  except  that  I've  been  sent 
on  a  fool's  errand,  an'  made  to  walk  all  the  way  from 
Thorbury,  here,  an'  a  longer  an'  a  dirtier  an'  a  rockier 
road  I  never  went  over.  I  thought  two  or  three  times 
that  I  should  just  drop.  If  I'd  knowed  how  stiff  my 
j'ints  would  be,  I  wouldn't  'a'  come,  no  matter  what  she 
said." 

"  She  said,"  repeated  La  Pleur.     "  Who  ?  " 

"  That  old  Miss  Panney  ! "  said  Phoebe,  with  a  snap. 
"  She  sent  me  out  here  to  look  after  Mike,  an'  was  too 
stingy  even  to  pay  my  hack  fare.     She  wanted  me  to 


LA   FLBUR  ASSUMES   KESPONSIBILITIBS        341 

come  day  before  yesterday,  but  I  couldn't  get  away  'til 
to-day." 

"  Where  is  Miss  Panney  ?  "  asked  La  Fleur,  quickly. 

"  She's  gone  to  the  seashore,  where  the  Bannisters  an' 
Miss  Miriam  is.  She  said  she'd  come  here  herself  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  goin'  thar." 

"  To  look  after  Mike  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

"Not  'zactly,"  said  Phoebe,  with  a  grin.  "There's 
other  things  here  she  wanted  to  look  after." 

"  Upon  my  word ! "  exclaimed  La  Fleur,  "  I  can't  im- 
agine what  there  is  on  this  place  that  Miss  Panney  need 
concern  herself  about." 

"There  isn't  no  place,"  said  Phoebe,  "where  there 
isn't  somethin'  that  Miss  Panney  wants  to  consarn  her- 
self in." 

La  Fleur  looked  at  Phoebe,  and  then  dropped  the 
subject. 

"  Don't  you  want  a  cup  of  tea  ?  "  she  asked,  a  glow  of 
hospitality  suddenly  appearing  on  her  face.  "  That  will 
set  you  up  sooner  than  anything  else,  and  perhaps  I  can 
find  a  piece  of  one  of  those  meat  pies  your  husband  likes 
so  much." 

Phoebe  was  not  accustomed  to  being  waited  upon  by 
white  people,  and  to  have  a  repast  prepared  for  her  by 
this  cook  of  high  degree  flattered  her  vanity  and  wonder- 
fully pleased  her.  Her  soul  warmed  toward  the  good 
woman  who  was  warming  and  cheering  her  body. 

"I  say  it  again,"  remarked  La  Pleur,  "that  I  cannot 
think  what  that  old  lady  should  want  to  look  after  in 
this  house." 


342  THE   GIEL  AT   COBHURST 

"Now  look  here,  madam,"  said  Phoebe,  "it's  jes' 
nothin'  at  all.  It's  jes'  the  most  nonsensical  thing  that 
ever  was.  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you  about  it ;  don't  mind 
it  a  bit.  She  wants  Mr.  Hav'ley  to  marry  Miss  Dora 
Bannister,  an'  she's  on  pins  an'  needles  to  know  if  the 
young  woman  here  is  likely  to  ketch  him.  That's  all 
there  is  'bout  it.  She  don't  care  two  snaps  for  Mike,  an' 
I  reckon  he  don't  want  no  looking  after  anyway." 

"  No,  indeed,"  answered  the  other ;  "  I  take  the  best  of 
care  of  him.  Miss  Panney  must  be  dreadful  afraid  of 
our  young  lady,  eh  ?  " 

"That's  jes'  what  she  is,"  said  Phoebe.  "I  wonder 
she  didn't  take  Mr.  Hav'ley  along  with  her  when  she 
went  to  the  seashore." 

La  Fleur's  eyes  sparkled. 

"Now  come,  Phoebe,"  said  she;  "what  on  earth  did 
she  want  you  to  do  here  ?  " 

Phoebe  took  a  long  draught  of  tea,  and  put  down  the 
cup,  with  a  sigh  of  content. 

"Oh,  nothin',"  said  she.  "She  jes'  wanted  me  to  spy 
round,  an'  see  if  Mr.  Hav'ley  an'  Miss  Drane  was  fallin' 
in  love  with  each  other,  an'  then  I  was  to  go  an'  tell  her 
about  it  the  mornin'  before  she  started.  Now  I'll  have 
to  keep  it  'til  she  comes  back,  but  I  reckon  thar  ain't 
nothin'  to  tell  about." 

La  Fleur  laughed.  "Nothing  at  all,"  said  she.  "You 
might  stay  here  a  week  and  you  wouldn't  see  any  love- 
making  between  those  two.  They  don't  as  much  as 
think  of  such  a  thing.  So  you  need  not  put  yourself  to 
any  trouble  about  that  part  of  Miss  Panney's  errand. 


LA   FLEUR   ASSUMES   RESPONSIBILITIES         343 

Here  comes  your  good  Michael,  and  I  think  you  will  find 
that  he  is  doing  very  well." 

About  ten  minutes  after  this,  when  Phoebe  and  Mike 
had  gone  off  to  talk  over  their  more  than  semi-detached 
domestic  affairs.  La  Fleur  took  the  telegram  from  the 
drawer,  replaced  it  in  its  envelope,  which  she  closed  and 
fastened  so  neatly  that  no  one  would  have  supposed  that 
it  had  been  opened.  Then  she  took  from  a  shelf  a  rail- 
road time-table,  which  lay  in  company  with  her  cook- 
book and  a  few  other  well-worn  volumes;  for  the  good 
cook  cared  for  reading  very  much  as  she  cared  for  her 
own  mayonnaise  dressing;  she  wanted  but  little  at  a 
time,  but  she  liked  it. 

"  The  last  train  to  the  city  seems  to  be  seven-ten,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "No  other  train  after  that  stops  at 
Thorbury.  If  he  had  been  at  home  he  would  have  taken 
an  early  afternoon  train,  which  was  what  she  expected,  I 
suppose.  It  will  be  a  great  pity  for  him  to  have  to  go 
to-night,  and  for  no  other  reason  than  for  that  old  trick- 
ster's telegram.  If  anything  has  really  happened,  he'll 
get  news  of  it  in  some  sensible  shape." 

At  all  events,  there  was  nothing  now  to  be  done  with 
the  telegram,  so  she  put  it  on  the  shelf,  and  set  about 
her  preparations  for  dinner,  which  had  been  very  much 
delayed. 

Ealph  had  gone  off  fishing;  but,  before  starting,  he 
had  put  Mrs.  Browning  to  the  gig  and  had  told  Cicely 
that  as  soon  as  her  work  was  finished,  she  must  take  her 
mother  for  a  drive.  The  girl  had  been  delighted,  and  the 
two  had  gone  off  for  a  long  jog  through  the  country  lanes. 


344  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Ealph  came  striding 
homeward  across  the  fields.  He  was  still  a  mile  from 
Cobhurst,  and  on  a  bit  of  rising  ground  when,  on  the  road 
below  him,  he  saw  Mrs.  Browning  and  the  gig,  and  to  his 
surprise  the  good  old  mare  was  demurely  trotting  away 
from  Cobhurst. 

"  Can  it  be  possible,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  they  have 
just  started !  "  And  he  hurried  down  toward  the  road. 
He  now  saw  that  there  was  only  one  person  in  the  gig, 
and  very  soon  he  was  near  enough  to  perceive  that  this 
was  Cicely. 

"  I  expect  you  are  wondering  what  I  am  doing  here  by 
myself,  and  where  I  am  going,"  she  said,  when  she 
stopped  and  he  stood  by  the  gig.  "  I  shall  tell  you  the 
exact  truth,  because  I  know  you  will  not  mind.  We 
started  out  a  long  time  ago,  but  mother  had  a  headache, 
and  the  motion  of  the  gig  made  it  worse.  She  was  try- 
ing to  bear  it  so  that  I  might  have  a  drive,  but  I  insisted 
upon  turning  back.  I  took  her  as  far  as  the  orchard, 
where  I  left  her,  and  since  then  I  have  been  driving 
about  by  myself  and  having  an  awfully  good  time. 
Mother  did  not  mind  that,  as  I  promised  not  to  go  far 
away.  But  I  think  I  have  now  gone  far  enough  along 
this  road.  I  like  driving  ever  so  much !  Don't  you 
want  me  to  drive  you  home  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do ! "  said  Ealph,  and  in  he  jumped. 

"I  expect  Miriam  must  be  enjoying  this  lovely  even- 
ing," she  said.  "  And  she  will  see  the  sun  set  from  the 
beach,  for  Barport  faces  westward,  and  I  never  saw  a 
girl  enjoy  sunsets  as  she  does.  At  this  moment  I  expect 
her  face  is  as  bright  as  the  sky." 


LA  FLBUR  ASSUMES   RESPONSIBILITIES         345 

"  And  wouldn't  you  like  to  be  standing  by  her  ?  "  asked 
Ralph. 

Cicely  shook  her  head.  "  No,"  she  said.  "  To  speak 
truly,  I  should  rather  be  here.  We  used  to  go  a  good 
deal  to  the  seashore,  but  this  is  the  first  time  that  I  ever 
really  lived  in  the  country,  and  it  is  so  charming  I  would 
not  lose  a  day  of  it,  and  there  cannot  be  very  many  more 
days  of  it,  anyway." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Ralph. 

"I  am  now  copying  chapter  twenty-seventh  of  the 
doctor's  book,  and  there  are  only  thirty-one  in  all.  And 
as  to  his  other  work,  that  will  not  occupy  me  very  long." 

Ralph  was  about  to  ask  a  question,  but,  instead,  he  in- 
voluntarily grasped  one  of  the  little  gloved  hands  that 
held  the  reins. 

"  Pull  that,"  he  said  quickly.  "  You  must  always  turn 
to  the  right  when  you  meet  a  vehicle." 

Cicely  obeyed,  but  when  they  had  passed  a  wagon, 
drawn  by  a  team  of  oxen,  she  said,  "  But  there  was  more 
room  on  the  other  side." 

"  That  may  be,"  replied  Ralph,  with  a  laugh,  "  but 
when  you  are  driving,  you  must  not  rely  too  much  on 
your  reason,  but  must  follow  rules  and  tradition." 

"  If  I  knew  as  much  about  driving  as  I  like  it,"  said 
she,  "  I  should  be  a  famous  whip.  Before  we  go,  I  am 
going  to  ask  Miriam  to  take  me  out  with  her,  two  or 
three  times,  and  give  me  lessons  in  driving.  She  told 
me  that  you  had  taught  her  a  great  deal." 

"  So  you  would  be  willing  to  take  your  tuition  second- 
hand," said  Ralph.  "  I  am  a  much  better  teacher  tlimk 
Mijia-m  is," 


346  THE   GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

"  Would  you  like  to  make  up  a  class  ? "  she  asked. 
"  But  I  do  not  know  how  the  teacher  and  the  two  pupils 
could  ride  in  this  gig.  Oh,  I  see.  Miriam  and  I  could 
sit  here,  and  you  could  walk  by  our  side  and  instruct  us, 
and  when  the  one  who  happened  to  be  driving  should 
make  a  mistake,  she  would  give  up  her  seat  and  the 
reins,  and  go  to  the  foot  of  her  class.'^ 

"  Class  indeed !  '^  exclaimed  Ralph ;  "  I'll  have  none 
of  it.  I  will  take  you  out  to-morrow  and  give  you  a 
lesson." 

So  they  went  gayly  on  till  they  came  to  a  grassy  hill 
which  shut  out  the  western  view. 

"Do  you  think  I  could  go  through  that  gate,"  asked 
Cicely,  "  and  drive  Mrs.  Browning  up  that  hill  ?  There 
is  going  to  be  a  grand  sunset,  and  we  should  get  a  fine 
view  of  it  up  there." 

"No,"  said  Ealph,  "  let  us  get  out  and  walk  up,  and  as 
Mrs.  Browning  can  see  the  barn,  we  will  not  worry  her 
soul  by  tying  her  to  the  fence.  I  shall  let  her  go  home 
by  herself,  and  you  will  see  how  beautifully  she  will  do 
it." 

So  they  got  out,  and  Ralph  having  fastened  the  reins  to 
the  dashboard,  clicked  to  the  old  mare,  who  walked  away 
by  herself.  Cicely  was  greatly  interested,  and  the  two 
stood  and  watched  the  sober-minded  animal  as  she  made 
her  way  home  as  quietly  and  properly  as  if  she  had  been 
driven.  When  she  entered  the  gate  of  the  barnyard,  and 
stopped  at  the  stable  door,  Ealph  remarked  that  she 
would  stand  there  until  Mike  came  out,  and  then  the 
two  went  into  the  field  and  walked  up  the  hill. 


LA  FLEUR  ASSUMES   RESPONSIBILITIES         347 

^^  I  once  had  a  scolding  from  Miriam  for  doing  that 
sort  of  thing,"  said  Ralph;  "but  you  do  not  seem  to 
object." 

"  I  do  not  know  enough  yet,"  cried  Cicely,  who  had 
begun  to  run  up  the  hill;  "wait  until  I  have  had  my 
lessons." 

They  stood  together  at  the  top  of  the  little  eminence. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Cicely,  "  if  Miriam  ever  comes  upon 
this  hill  at  sunset.    Perhaps  she  has  never  thought  of  it." 

Ralph  did  not  know;  but  the  mention  of  Miriam's 
name  caused  him  to  think  how  little  he  had  missed  his 
sister,  who  had  seemed  to  live  in  his  life  as  he  had  lived 
in  hers.  It  was  strange,  and  he  could  not  believe  that 
he  would  so  easily  adapt  himself  to  the  changed  circum- 
stances of  his  home  life.  There  was  another  thing  of 
which  he  did  not  think,  and  that  was  that  he  had  not 
missed  Dora  Bannister.  It  is  true  that  he  had  never 
seen  much  of  that  young  lady;  but  he  had  thought  so 
much  about  her,  and  made  so  many  plans  in  regard  to 
her,  and  had  so  often  hoped  that  he  might  see  her  drive 
up  to  -the  Cobhurst  door,  and  had  had  such  charming 
recollections  of  the  hours  she  had  spent  in  his  home, 
and  of  the  travels  they  had  taken  together  by  photo- 
graph, her  blue  eyes  lifted  to  his  as  if  in  truth  she 
leaned  upon  his  arm  as  they  walked  through  palace  and 
park,  that  it  was  wonderful  that  he  did  not  notice  that 
for  days  his  thoughts  had  not  dwelt  upon  her. 

When  the  gorgeous  color  began  to  fade  out  of  the  sky, 
Cicely  said  her  mother  would  be  wondering  what  had 
become  of  her,  and  together  they  went  down  the  hill, 


348  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

and  along  the  roadside,  where  they  stopped  to  pick  some 
tall  sprays  of  goldenrod,  and  through  the  orchard,  and 
around  by  the  barnyard,  where  Mike  was  milking,  and 
where  Ealph  stopped  while  Cicely  went  on  to  the  house. 

Phoebe  was  standing  down  by  the  entrance  gate.  She 
was  waiting  for  an  oxcart,  whose  driver  had  promised  to 
take  her  with  him  on  his  return  to  Thorbury.  She  had 
arranged  with  a  neighbor  to  prepare  the  minister's  sup- 
per, but  she  must  be  on  hand  to  give  him  his  breakfast. 
As  there  was  nothing  to  interest  her  at  Cobhurst,  and 
nothing  to  report,  she  was  glad  to  go,  and  considered 
this  oxcart  a  godsend,  for  her  plan  of  getting  Mike  to 
drive  her  over  in  the  spring  cart  had  not  been  met  with 
favor. 

Waiting  at  the  gateway,  she  had  seen  Ealph  and 
Cicely  walk  up  the  hill,  and  watched  them  standing  to- 
gether, ever  and  ever  so  long,  looking  at  the  sky,  and 
she  had  kept  her  eyes  on  them  as  they  came  down  the 
hill,  stopped  to  pick  flowers  which  he  gave  to  her,  and 
until  they  had  disappeared  among  the  trees  of  the 
orchard. 

"  Upon  my  word  an'  honor ! "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Eobin- 
son,  *'  if  that  old  French  slop-cook  hasn't  lied  to  me,  wus 
than  Satan  could  do  hisself !  If  them  two  ain't  lovers, 
there  never  was  none,  an'  that  old  heathen  sinner 
thought  she  could  clap  a  coffee  bag  over  my  head  so 
that  I  couldn't  see  nothin'  nor  tell  nothin'.  She  might 
as  well  a'  slapped  me  in  the  face,  the  sarpent ! " 

And  unable,  by  reason  of  her  indignation,  to  stand 
still  any  longer,  she  walked  up  the  road  to  meet  the 


CICELY  READS  BY  MOONLIGHT  349 

returning  oxcart,  whose  wheels  could  be  heard  rumbling 
in  the  distance. 

La  Fleur  had  seen  the  couple  standing  together  on  the 
little  hill ;  but  she  had  thought  it  a  pity  to  disturb  their 
tgte-a-t0te. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

CICELY   READS    BY   MOONLIGHT 

Just  before  Cicely  reached  the  back  piazza,  La  Fleur 
came  out  of  the  kitchen  door  with  the  telegram  in  her 
hand. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  if  Mr.  Haverley  has  come 
home,  and  where  I  can  find  him  ?  Here  is  a  message 
for  him,  and  I  have  been  looking  for  him,  high  and 
low." 

"  A  telegram  ! "  exclaimed  Cicely.  "  He  is  at  the  barn. 
I  will  take  it  to  him.  I  can  get  there  sooner  than  you 
can,  La  Fleur,"  and  without  further  word,  she  took  the 
yellow  missive  and  ran  with  it  toward  the  barn.  She 
met  Ealph  half  way,  and  stood  by  him  while  he  read  the 
message. 

"  I  hope,"  she  cried  as  she  looked  into  his  pale  face, 
"  that  nothing  has  happened  to  Miriam." 

"  Read  that,"  he  said,  his  voice  trembling,  "  Do  you 
suppose  —  "  but  he  could  not  utter  the  words  that  were 
in  his  mind. 

Cicely  seized  the  telegram  and  eagerly  read  it.  She 
was  on  the  point  of  screaming,  but  checked  herself. 


350  THE  GIRL   AT   COBHURST 

"  How  terrible  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  But  what  can  it 
mean  ?  It  is  from  Miss  Panney.  Oh !  I  think  it  is 
wicked  to  send  a  message  like  that,  which  does  not  tell 
you  what  has  happened." 

"  It  must  be  Miriam,"  cried  Ealph.  "  I  must  go  in- 
stantly," and  at  the  top  of  his  voice  he  shouted  for 
Mike.     The  man  soon  appeared,  running. 

"  Mike !  "  exclaimed  Ralph,  "  there  has  been  an  acci- 
dent ;  something  has  happened  to  Miss  Miriam.  I  must 
go  instantly  to  Barport.  I  must  take  the  next  train 
from  Thorbury.  Put  the  horse  to  the  gig  as  quickly  as 
you  can.     You  must  go  with  me." 

With  a  face  expressing  the  deepest  concern,  Mike 
stood  looking  at  the' young  man. 

"  Don't  stop  for  a  minute,"  cried  Ralph,  in  great  excite- 
ment. "Drop  everything.  Take  the  horse,  no  matter 
what  he  has  been  doing ;  he  can  go  faster  than  the  mare. 
I  shall  be  ready  in  five  minutes  ! " 

"  Mr.  Hav'ley,"  said  Mike,  "  there  ain't  no  down  train 
stops  at  Thorbury  after  the  seven-ten,  and  it's  past  seven 
now.     That  train'll  be  gone  before  I  can  git  hitched  up." 

"  No  train  to-night ! "  Ralph  almost  yelled;  "  that  can- 
not be.     I  do  not  believe  it." 

"  Now  look  here,  Mr.  Hav'ley,"  said  Mike,  "  I  wouldn't 
tell  you  nothin'  that  wasn't  so,  'specially  at  a  time  like 
this.  But  I've  been  driving  to  Thorbury  trains  an'  from 
'em,  for  years  and  years.  There's  a  late  train  'bout  ten 
o'clock,  but  it's  a  through  express  and  don't  stop." 

"  I  must  take  that  train,"  cried  Ralph ;  "  what  is  the 
nearest  station  where  it  does  stop  ?  " 


CICELY  READS   BY   MOONLIGHT  351 

"  There  ain^t  none  nearer  than  the  Junction,  and  that's 
sixteen  miles  up,  an'  a  dreadful  road.  I  once  druv  there 
in  the  daytime,  an'  it  tuk  me  four  hours,  an'  if  you  went 
to-night  you  couldn't  get  there  afore  daylight." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  Thorbury  and  telegraph  ? " 
asked  Cicely,  who  was  now  almost  as  pale  as  Ralph. 
"Then  you  could  find  out  exactly  what  has  hap- 
pened." 

"  Oh,  I  must  go,  I  must  go,"  said  Ealph ;  "  but  I  shall 
telegraph.  I  shall  go  to  Thorbury  instantly,  and  get  on 
as  soon  as  I  can." 

Mike  stood  looking  on  the  ground. 

"  Mr.  Hav'ley,"  he  said,  as  the  young  man  was  about 
to  hurry  to  the  house,  "  tain't  no  use,  the  telegraph  office 
is  shet  up,  right  after  that  down  train  passes." 

"  It  is  barbarous ! "  exclaimed  Ralph.  "  I  will  go  any- 
way.    I  will  find  the  operator." 

"  Mr.  Hav'ley,"  said  Mike,  "  don't  you  go  an'  do  that. 
You  is  tremblin'  like  a  asp.  You'll  be  struck  down  sick 
if  you  go  on  so.  There's  a  train  a  quarter  ol  six  in  the 
mornin',  an'  I'll  git  you  over  to  that.  If  you  goes  to 
Thorbury,  you  won't  be  fit  to  travel  in  the  mornin',  an' 
you  won't  be  no  good  when  you  gits  there." 

Tears  were  now  on  Cicely's  cheeks,  in  spite  of  her 
efforts  to  restrain  herself. 

"  He  is  right,  Mr.  Ealph,"  she  said.  "  I  think  it  will 
be  dreadful  for  you  to  be  in  Thorbury  all  night,  and  most 
likely  for  no  good.  It  will  be  a  great  deal  better  to  leave 
here  early  in  the  morning  and  go  straight  to  Barport. 
But  let  us  go  into  the  house  and  talk  to  mother.     After 


352  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUEST 

all,  it  may  not  be  Miriam.  You  cannot  tell  what  it  is. 
It  is  a  cruel  message." 

Mrs.  Drane  was  greatly  shocked,  but  she  agreed  with 
her  daughter  that  it  would  not  be  wise  for  Ealph  to  go 
to  Thorbury  until  he  could  start  for  Barport.  La  Fleur 
was  somewhat  frightened  when  she  found  that  her  wilful 
delay  of  the  telegram  might  occasion  Mr.  Haverley  an 
harassing  and  anxious  night  in  Thorbury,  and  was  ur- 
gent in  her  endeavors  to  quiet  him  and  persuade  him  to 
remain  at  home  until  morning.  But  it  was  not  until 
Cicely  had  put  in  her  last  plea  that  the  young  man  con- 
sented to  give  up  his  intention  of  going  in  search  of  the 
telegraph  operator. 

"  Mr.  Ralph,"  said  she,  "  don't  you  think  it  would  be 
awful  if  you  were  to  send  a  message  and  get  a  bad  an- 
swer to  it,  and  have  to  stay  there  by  yourself  until  the 
morning  ?  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  it ;  and  telegraphic 
messages  are  always  so  hard  and  cruel.  If  I  were  you, 
I  would  rather  go  straight  on  and  find  out  everything 
for  myself." 

Ralph  looked  down  at  her  and  at  the  tears  upon  her 
cheeks. 

"I  will  do  that,"  he  said,  and  taking  her  hand,  he 
pressed  it  thankfully. 

Every  preparation  and  arrangement  was  made  for  an 
early  start,  and  Ralph  wandered  in  and  out  of  the  house, 
impatient  as  a  wild  beast  to  break  away  and  be  gone. 
Cicely,  whose  soul  was  full  of  his  sorrow,  went  out  to 
him  on  the  piazza,  where  he  stood,  looking  at  the  late 
moon  rising  above  the  treetops. 


CICELY  BEADS  BY  MOONLIGHT  353 

"  What  a  different  man  I  should  be,"  he  said,  "  if  I 
could  think  that  Miriam  was  standing  on  the  seashore 
and  looking  at  that  moon." 

Cicely  longed  to  comfort  him,  but  she  could  not  say 
anything  which  would  seem  to  have  reason  in  it.  She 
had  tried  to  think  that  it  might  be  possible  that  the  de- 
spatch might  not  concern  Miriam,  but  she  could  not  do  it. 
If  it  had  been  necessary  to  send  a  despatch  and  Miriam 
had  been  alive  and  well,  it  would  have  been  from  her 
that  the  despatch  would  have  come.  Cicely's  soul  was 
sick  with  sorrow  and  with  dread,  not  only  for  the 
brother,  but  for  herself,  for  she  and  Miriam  were  now 
fast  friends.  But  she  controlled  herself,  and  looking  up 
with  a  smile,  said,  "  What  time  is  it  ?  " 

Ralph  took  out  his  watch  and  held  the  face  of  it 
toward  the  moon,  which  was  but  little  past  the  full. 

"  It  is  a  quarter  to  nine,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  she,  "  I  will  ask  Miriam,  when  I 
see  her,  if  she  was  looking  at  the  moon  at  this  time." 

"  Do  you  believe,"  exclaimed  Ralph,  turning  suddenly 
so  that  they  stood  face  to  face,  "do  you  truly  believe 
that  we  shall  ever  see  her  again?" 

The  question  was  so  abrupt  that  Cicely  was  taken 
unawares.  She  raised  her  face  toward  the  eager  eyes 
bent  upon  her,  but  the  courageous  words  she  wished 
to  utter  would  not  come,  and  she  drooped  her  head. 
With  a  swift  movement,  Ralph  put  his  two  hands  upon 
her  cheeks  and  gently  raised  her  face.  He  need  not 
have  looked  at  her,  for  the  warm  tears  ran  down  upon 
his  hands. 
2a 


354  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  You  do  not,"  he  said ;  and  as  he  gazed  down  upon 
her,  her  face  became  dim.  For  the  first  time  since  his 
boyhood,  tears  filled  his  eyes. 

At  a  quick  sound  of  hoofs  and  wheels,  both  started ; 
and  the  next  moment  the  telegraph  boy  drove  up  close 
to  the  railing  and  held  up  a  yellow  envelope. 

"One  dollar  for  delivery,"  said  he;  "that's  night 
rates.  This  come  jest  as  the  ofiice  was  shetting  up, 
and  Mr.  Martin  said  I'd  got  to  deliver  it  to-night  j  but 
I  couldn't  come  till  the  moon  was  up." 

Cicely,  who  was  nearer,  seized  the  telegram  before 
Ralph  could  get  it. 

"  Drive  round  to  the  back  of  the  house,"  she  said  to 
the  boy,  "and  I  will  bring  you  the  money." 

She  held  the  telegram,  though  Ralph  had  seized  it. 

"Don't  be  too  quick,"  she  said,  "don't  be  too  quick. 
There,  you  will  tear  it  in  half.  Let  me  open  it  for 
you." 

She  deftly  drew  the  envelope  from  his  hand,  and 
spread  the  telegram  on  the  broad  rail  of  the  piazza, 
on  which  the  moon  shone  full.  Instantly  their  heads 
were  close  together. 

"  I  cannot  read  it,"  groaned  Ralph ;  "  my  eyes  are  —  " 

"I  can,"  interrupted  Cicely,  and  she  read  aloud  the 
message,  which  ran  thus, — 

"Fear  news  of  accident  may  trouble  you.  We  are 
all  well.     Have  written.     Miriam  Haverley." 

Ralph  started  back  and  stood  upright,  as  if  some  one 
had  shouted  to  him  from  the  sky.  He  said  not  one 
word,   but  Cicely  gave  a  cry  of    joy.     Ralph    turned 


CICELY  READS  BY  MOONLIGHT  355 

toward  her,  and  as  he  saw  her  face,  irradiated  by  the 
moonlight  and  her  sudden  happiness,  he  looked  down 
upon  her  for  one  moment,  and  then  his  arms  were  out- 
stretched toward  her;  but,  quick  as  was  his  motion, 
her  thought  was  quicker,  and  before  he  could  touch  her, 
she  had  darted  back  with  the  telegram  in  her  hand. 

'^1  will  show  this  to  mother,"  she  cried,  and  was  in 
the  house  in  an  instant. 

La  Fleur  was  in  the  hall,  where  for  some  time  she 
had  been  quietly  standing,  looking  out  upon  the  moon- 
light. From  her  position,  which  was  not  a  conspicuous 
one,  at  the  door  of  the  enclosed  stairway,  she  had  been 
able  to  keep  her  eyes  upon  Ralph  and  Cicely;  and 
held  herself  ready,  should  she  hear  Mrs.  Drane  coming 
down  the  stairs,  to  go  up  and  engage  her  in  a  consul- 
tation in  regard  to  domestic  arrangements.  She  had 
known  of  the  arrival  of  the  telegraph  boy,  had  seen 
what  followed,  and  now  listened  with  rapt  delight  to 
Cicely's  almost  breathless  announcement  of  the  joyful 
news. 

After  the  girl  went  upstairs.  La  Fleur  walked  away ; 
there  was  no  need  for  her  to  stand  guard  any  longer. 

"It  isn't  only  the  telegram,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"that  makes  her  face  shine  and  her  voice  quiver  like 
that."  Then  she  went  out  to  congratulate  Mr.  Haverley 
on  the  news  from  his  sister.  But  the  young  man  was 
not  there;  his  soul  was  too  full  for  the  restraints  of 
a  house  or  a  roof,  and  he  had  gone  out,  bareheaded, 
into  the  moonlight  to  be  alone  with  his  happiness  and 
to  try  to  understand  it. 


856  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

When  Mrs.  Drane  returned  to  her  room,  having  gone 
down  at  her  daughter's  request  to  pay  the  telegraph 
messenger,  she  found  her  daughter  lying  on  a  couch, 
her  face  wet  with  tears.  But  in  ten  minutes  Cicely 
was  sitting  up  and  chattering  gayly.  The  good  lady 
was  rejoiced  to  know  that  there  was  no  foundation  for 
the  evils  they  had  feared,  but  she  could  not  understand 
why  her  daughter,  usually  a  cool-headed  little  thing 
and  used  to  self-control,  should  be  so  affected  by  the 
news.  And  in  the  morning  she  was  positively  fright- 
ened when  Cicely  informed  her  that  she  had  not  slept 
a  wink  all  night. 

Mrs.  Drane  had  not  seen  Ealph's  face  when  he 
stretched  out  his  arms  toward  her  daughter. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

UNDISTURBED    LETTUCE 


When  Ralph  Haverley  came  in  from  his  long  moon- 
light ramble,  he  was  so  happy  that  he  went  to  bed  and 
slept  as  sound  as  rock.  But  before  he  closed  his  eyes  he 
said  to  himself,  — 

"I  will  do  that  to-morrow;  the  very  first  thing 
to-morrow." 

But  people  do  not  always  do  what  they  intend  to  do 
the  very  first  thing  in  the  morning,  and  this  was  the  case 
with  Ralph.  La  Fleur,  who  knew  that  a  letter  was 
expected,  sent  Mike  early  to  the  post-office,  and  soon 
after  breakfast  Ralph  had  a  letter  from  Miriam.     It  was 


UNDISTURBED   LETTUCE  367 

a  long  one ;  it  gave  a  full  account  of  the  drowning  accident 
and  of  some  of  her  own  experiences,  but  it  said  not  one 
word  of  the  message  sent  by  Miss  Panney,  to  whom 
Miriam  alluded  very  slightly.  It  gave,  however,  the 
important  information  that  Mrs.  Bannister  had  been  so 
affected  by  the  dreadful  scene  on  the  beach  that  she 
declared  she  could  not  go  into  the  ocean  again,  nor  even 
bear  the  sight  of  it,  and  that,  therefore,  they  were  all 
coming  home  on  the  morrow. 

"  She  will  be  here  to-night,''  said  Ralph,  who  knew  the 
trains  from  Barport. 

As  soon  as  he  had  read  the  letter  Ralph  went  to  look 
for  Cicely.  She  had  come  down  late  to  breakfast,  and 
he  had  been  surprised  at  her  soberness  of  manner.  On 
the  other  hand,  Mrs.  Drane  had  been  surprised  at 
Ralph's  soberness  of  manner,  and  she  found  herself  in 
the  unusual  position  of  the  liveliest  person  at  the  break- 
fast table.  )jN 

"  People  who  have  heard  such  good  news  ought  to  be 
very  happy,"  she  thought,  but  she  made  no  remark  on 
the  sub-ject. 

It  was  Cicely's  custom  to  spend  the  brief  time  she 
allowed  herself  between  breakfast  and  work,  upon  the 
lawn,  or  somewhere  out  of  doors,  but  to-day  Ralph 
searched  in  vain  for  her.  He  met  La  Fleur,  however, 
and  that  conscientious  cook,  in  her  most  respectful  man- 
ner, asked  him,  if  he  happened  to  meet  Miss  Cicely, 
would  he  be  so  good  as  to  give  her  a  message  ? 

"But  I  don't  know  where  she  is,"  said  Ralph.  "I 
have  a  letter  to  show  her." 


368  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

La  Fleur  wished  very  mucli  to  know  what  was  in 
the  letter,  which,  she  supposed,  explained  the  mystery 
of  the  telegrams,  but  at  a  moment  like  this  she  would 
not  ask. 

"  She  is  in  the  garden,  sir,'^  she  said.  "  I  asked  her  to 
gather  me  some  lettuce  for  luncheon.  She  does  it  so 
much  more  nicely  than  I  could  do  it,  or  Mike.  She 
selects  the  crispest  and  most  tender  leaves  of  that 
crimped  and  curled  lettuce  you  all  like  so  much,  and  I 
thought  I  would  ask  you,  sir,  if  you  met  her,  to  be  so 
very  kind  as  to  tell  her  that  I  would  like  a  few  sprigs  of 
parsley,  just  a  very  few.  I  would  go  myself,  sir,  but 
there  is  something  cooking  which  I  cannot  leave,  and  I 
beg  your  pardon  for  troubling  you  and  will  thank  you, 
sir,  very  much  if  you  —  " 

It  was  not  worth  while  for  her  to  finish  her  sentence, 
for  Ralph  had  gone. 

He  found  Cicely  just  as  she  stooped  over  the  lettuce 
bed.     She  rose  with  a  face  like  a  peach  blossom. 

"  I  have  a  letter  from  Miriam,"  he  said,  "  I  will  give  it 
to  you  presently,  and  you  may  read  the  whole  of  it,  but 
I  must  first  tell  you  that  she,  with  Mrs.  Bannister  and 
Dora,  are  coming  home  to-day.  They  will  reach  Thor- 
bury  late  this  afternoon.     Isn't  that  glorious  ?  " 

All  the  delicate  hues  of  the  peach  blossom  went  out  of 
Cicely's  face.  That  everlasting  person  had  come  up 
again,  and  now  he  called  her  Dora,  and  it  was  glorious  to 
have  her  back !  She  did  not  have  to  say  anything,  for 
Ealph  went  rapidly  on. 

"  But  before  they  leave  Barport/'  he  said,  "  I  want  to 


UNDISTURBED   LETTUCE  359 

send  Miriam  a  telegram.  If  Mike  takes  it  immediately 
to  Thorbury,  she  will  get  it  before  her  train  leaves." 

"  A  telegram !  "  exclaimed  Cicely,  but  she  did  not  look 
up  at  him. 

"  Yes,"  said  he ;  "I  want  to  telegraph  to  Miriam  that 
you  and  I  are  engaged  to  be  married.  I  want  her  to 
know  it  before  she  gets  here.     Shall  I  send  it  ?  " 

She  raised  to  him  a  face  more  brightly  hued  than  any 
peach  blossom  —  rich  with  the  color  of  the  ripe  fruit. 
Ten  minutes  after  this,  two  wood  doves,  sitting  in  a  tree 
to  the  east  of  the  lettuce  bed,  and  looking  westward, 
turned  around  on  their  twig  and  looked  toward  the  east. 
They  were  sunny-minded  little  creatures,  and  did  not 
like  to  be  cast  into  the  shade. 

As  they  went  out  of  the  garden  gate.  Cicely  said, 
"  You  have  always  been  a  very  independent  person  and 
accustomed  to  doing  very  much  as  you  please,  haven't 
you  ?  " 

"  It  has  been  something  like  that,"  answered  Kalph ; 
"but  why?" 

"  Only  this,"  she  said ;  "  would  you  begin  already  to 
chafe  and  rebel  if  I  were  to  ask  you  not  to  send  that 
telegram  ?  It  would  be  so  much  nicer  to  tell  her  after 
she  gets  back." 

"  Chafe !  "  exclaimed  Ealph,  "  I  should  think  not.  I 
will  do  exactly  as  you  wish." 

"  You  are  awfully  good,"  said  Cicely,  "  but  you  must 
agree  with  me  more  prudently  now  that  we  are  out  here, 
and  I  will  not  tell  mother  until  Miriam  knows." 

A  gray  old  chanticleer,   who  was  leading  his  hens 


THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

across  the  yard,  stopped  at  this  moment  and  looked  at 
Ralph,  but  it  is  not  certain  that  he  sniffed. 

Ralph  knew  very  well  when  people,  coming  from  Bar- 
port,  should  arrive  in  Thorbury,  but  his  mind  was  so 
occupied  that  when  he  went  to  the  barn,  he  forgot  so 
many  things  he  should  have  done  at  the  house,  and  he 
ran  backward  and  forward  so  often,  and  waited  so  long 
for  an  opportunity  to  say  something  he  had  just  thought 
of,  to  somebody  who  did  not  happen  to  be  ready  to  listen 
at  the  precise  moment  he  wished  to  speak,  that  he  had 
just  stepped  into  the  gig  to  go  to  the  station  for  his  sis- 
ter, when  Miriam  arrived  alone  in  the  Bannister  carriage. 
Not  finding  anybody  at  the  station  to  meet  her,  they  had 
sent  her  on. 

Mrs.  Drane  was  not  the  liveliest  person  at  the  dinner 
table,  and  she  wondered  much  how  Ralph  and  Cicely,  who 
had  been  so  extremely  sober  at  breakfast  time,  should 
now  be  so  hilarious.  The  arrival  of  Miriam  seemed 
hardly  reason  enough  for  such  intemperate  gayety. 

As  for  Miriam,  she  overflowed  with  delight.  The 
ocean  was  grand,  but  Cobhurst  was  Cobhurst.  "  There 
was  nothing  better  about  my  trip  than  the  opportunity  it 
gave  me  of  coming  back  to  my  home.  I  never  did  that 
before,  you  know,  my  children." 

This  she  said  loftily  from  her  seat  at  the  head  of  the 
table.  Dinner  was  late  and  lasted  long,  and  Ralph  had 
gone  into  the  room  on  the  lower  floor,  in  which  he  kept 
his  cigars,  and  which  he  called  his  office,  when  Miriam 
followed  him.  There  was  no  unencumbered  chair,  and 
she  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  table* 


UNDISTURBED  LETTUCE  361 

^'  Ralph,"  said  she,  "  I  want  to  say  something  to  you, 
now,  while  it  is  fresh  in  my  mind.  I  think  we  can  some- 
times understand  our  affairs  better  when  we  go  away 
from  them  and  are  not  mixed  up  in  them.  I  have  been 
thinking  a  great  deal  since  I  have  been  at  Barport  about 
our  affairs  here,  not  only  as  they  are  but  as  they  may  be, 
and  most  likely  "vjrill  be,  and  I  have  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  some  of  these  days,  Ralph,  you  will  want  to  be 
married." 

"Do  you  mean  me?"  cried  Ralph.  "You  amaze 
me!" 

"Oh,  you  are  only  a  man,  and  you  need  not  be 
amazed,"  said  his  sister.  "  This  is  the  way  I  have  been 
thinking  of  it:  if  you  ever  do  want  to  get  married,  I 
hope  you  will  not  marry  Dora  Bannister.  I  used  some- 
times to  think  that  that  might  be  a  good  thing  to  do, 
though  I  changed  my  mind  very  often  about  it,  but  I  do 
not  think  so,  now,  at  all.  Dora  is  an  awfully  nice  girl 
in  ever  so  many  ways,  but  since  I  have  been  at  Barport 
with  her,  I  am  positive  that  I  do  not  want  you  to  marry 
her." 

Ralph  heaved  a  long  sigh  and  put  his  hands  in  his 
pockets. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  this  is  very  discour- 
aging ;  if  I  do  not  marry  Dora,  who  is  there  that  I  can 
marry  ?  " 

"You  goose,"  said  his  sister,  "there  is  a  girl  here, 
under  your  very  nose,  ever  so  much  nicer  and  more 
suitable  for  you  than  Dora.  If  you  marry  anybody, 
marry  Cicely  Drane.     I  have  been  thinking  ever  an4 


362  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

ever  so  much  about  her  and  about  you,  and  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  speak  to  you  of  this  as  soon  as  I  got  home, 
so  that  you  might  have  a  chance  to  think  about  it  before 
you  should  see  Dora.  Don't  you  remember  what  you 
used  to  tell  me  about  the  time  when  you  were  obliged  to 
travel  so  much,  and  how,  when  you  had  a  seat  to  your- 
self in  a  car,  and  a  crowd  of  people  were  coming  in,  you 
used  to  make  room  for  the  first  nice  person  you  saw,  be- 
cause you  knew  you  would  have  to  have  somebody  sitting 
alongside  of  you,  and  you  liked  to  choose  for  yourself  ? 
Now  that  is  the  way  I  feel  about  your  getting  married ; 
if  you  marry  Cicely  Drane,  I  shall  feel  safe  for  the  rest 
of  my  life." 

"  Miriam !  "  exclaimed  Kalph,  "  you  astonish  me  by  the 
force  of  your  statements.  Wait  here  one  moment,"  and 
he  ran  into  the  hall  through  which  he  had  seen  Cicely 
passing,  and  presently  reappeared  with  her. 

"  Miss  Drane,"  said  he,  "  do  you  know  that  my  sister 
thinks  that  I  ought  to  marry  you  ?  " 

In  an  instant  Miriam  had  slipped  from  the  table  to  the 
floor. 

"  Good  gracious,  Ealph  ! "  she  cried.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  I  am  merely  stating  your  advice,"  he  answered ;  "  and 
now,  Miss  Drane,  how  does  it  strike  you  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Cicely,  demurely,  "  if  your  sister  really 
thinks  we  should  marry,  I  suppose  —  I  suppose  we  ought 
to  do  it." 

Miriam's  eyes  flashed  from  one  to  the  other,  then  there 
were  two  girlish  cries  and  a  manly  laugh,  and  in  a 


ANGRY  WAVES  363 

moment  Miriam  and  Cicely  were  in  each  other's  arms, 
while  Ralph's  arms  were  around  them  both. 

"Now,"  said  Cicely,  when  this  group  had  separated 
itself  into  its  several  parts,  "I  must  run  up  and  tell 
mother."  And  very  soon  Mrs.  Drane  understood  why 
there  had  been  sobriety  at  breakfast  and  hilarity  at 
dinner.  She  was  surprised,  but  felt  she  ought  not  to  be ; 
she  was  a  little  depressed,  but  knew  she  would  get  over 
that. 

La  Fleur  did  not  hear  the  news  that  night,  but  it  was 
not  necessary ;  she  had  seen  Ralph  and  Cicely  coming 
through  the  garden  gate  without  a  leaf  of  lettuce  or  a 
single  sprig  of  parsley. 


CHAPTER  XL 

ANGRY   WAVES 


The  ocean  rolled  angrily  on  the  beach,  and  Miss 
Panney  walked  angrily  on  the  beach,  a  little  higher  up, 
however,  than  the  line  to  which  the  ocean  rolled. 

The  old  lady  was  angrier  than  the  ocean,  and  it  was 
much  more  than  mere  wind  that  made  her  storm  waves 
roll.  Her  indignation  was  directed  first  against  Mrs. 
Bannister,  that  silly  woman,  who,  by  cutting  short  her 
stay  at  the  seashore,  had  ruined  Miss  Panney's  plans,  and 
also  against  Ralph,  who  had  not  come  to  Barport  as  soon 
as  he  had  received  the  telegram.  If  he  had  arrived,  the 
party  might  have  stayed  a  little  longer  for  his  sake. 


364  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

Why  he  had  not  come  she  knew  no  more  than  she  knew 
what  she  was  going  to  say  to  him  in  explanation  of  her 
message,  and  she  cared  as  little  ior  the  one  as  for  the 
other. 

Her  own  visit  to  Barport  had  been  utterly  useless. 
She  had  spent  money  and  time,  she  had  tired  herself, 
had  been  frightened  and  disgusted,  —  all  for  nothing. 
She  did  not  remember  any  of  her  plans  that  had  failed 
so  utterly. 

Meeting  the  bathing-master,  she  rolled  in  upon  him 
some  ireful  waves,  because  he  did  not  keep  a  boat  out- 
side the  breakers  to  pick  up  people  who  might  be  ex- 
hausted and  in  danger  of  drowning.  In  V3.in  the  man 
protested  that  ten  thousand  people  had  said  that  to  him, 
before,  and  that  the  thing  could  not  be  done,  because  so 
many  swimmers  would  make  for  the  boat  and  hang  on  to 
its  sides,  just  to  rest  themselves  until  they  were  ready  to 
go  back.  It  would  simply  be  a  temptation  to  people 
to  swim  beyond  the  breakers.  She  went  on,  in  a  voice 
that  the  noise  of  the  surf  could  not  drown,  to  tell  him 
that  she  hoped  ten  thousand  more  people  would  say  the 
same  thing  to  him,  and  to  declare  that  he  ought  to  have 
several  boats  outside  during  bathing  hours,  so  that  people 
could  cling  to  some  of  them,  and  so,  perhaps,  save  them- 
selves from  exhaustion  on  their  return,  and  so  that  one, 
at  least,  could  be  kept  free  to  succor  the  distressed.  At 
last  the  poor  man  vowed  that  he  acted  under  orders,  and 
that,  if  she  wanted  to  pitch  into  anybody,  she  ought  to 
pitch  into  the  proprietors  of  the  hotel  who  employed  him, 
and  who  told  him  what  he  must  do. 


ANGRY  WAVES  365 

Miss  Panney  accepted  this  advice ;  and  if  the  sea  had 
broken  into  the  private  office  of  that  hotel,  the  owners 
and  managers  could  not  have  had  a  worse  time  than 
they  had  during  the  old  lady's  visit.  It  may  be  stated 
that  for  the  remainder  of  the  season  two  or  three  boats 
might  always  be  seen  outside  the  breakers  during  bath- 
ing hours  at  the  Barport  beach. 

For  the  sake  of  appearances,  Miss  Panney  did  not 
leave  Barport  immediately;  for  she  did  not  wish  her 
friends  to  think  that  she  was  a  woman  who  would  run 
after  the  Bannisters  wherever  they  might  please  to  go. 
But  in  a  reasonable  time  she  found  herself  in  the  Witton 
household,  and  the  maid  who  had  charge  of  her  room 
had  some  lively  minutes  after  the  arrival  of  the  old  lady 
therein. 

The  next  day  she  went  to  Thorbury  to  see  what  had 
happened,  and  chanced  to  spy  Phoebe  resting  herself  on 
a  bench  at  the  edge  of  the  public  green.  Instantly  the 
colored  woman  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  began  to  explain 
to  Miss  Panney  why  she  had  not  made  her  report  before 
the  latter  set  out  on  her  journey. 

"  You  see,  ma'am,  I  hadn't  no  shoes  as  was  fit  for  that 
long  walk  out  in  the  country,  an'  I  had  to  take  my  best 
ones  to  the  shoemaker;  and  though  I  did  my  best  to 
make  him  hurry,  it  took  him  a  whole  day,  an'  so  I  had 
to  put  off  going  to  Cobhurst,  an'  I've  never  got  over  my 
walk  out  thar  yit.     My  j'ints  has  creaked  ever  sense." 

"If  you  used  them  more,  they  would  creak  less," 
snapped  Miss  Panney.  "How  are  things  going  on  at 
Cobhurst  ?    What  did  you  see  there  ?  " 


366  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHtJRST 

"I  seed  a  lot,  an'  I  heard  a  lot,"  the  colored  woman 
answered.  "Mike's  purty  nigh  starved,  an'  does  his 
own  washin'.  An'  things  are  in  that  state  in  the  house 
that  would  make  you  sick,  Miss  Panney,  if  you  could 
see  them.  What  the  rain  doesn't  wash  goes  dirty ;  an' 
as  for  that  old  cook  they've  got,  if  she  isn't  drunk  all 
the  time,  her  mind's  givin'  way,  an'  I  expect  she'll  end 
by  pizenin'  all  of  them.  The  vittles  she  gave  me  to 
eat,  bein'  nearly  tired  to  death  when  I  got  thar,  was  sich 
that  they  give  me  pains  that  I  hain't  got  over  yit.  And 
what  would  have  happened  if  I'd  eat  a  full  meal,  nobody 
knows." 

"Get  out  with  you,"  cried  Miss  Panney.  "I  don't 
want  any  more  of  your  jealousy  and  spite.  If  that 
woman  gave  you  anything  to  eat,  I  expect  it  was  the 
only  decently  cooked  thing  you  ever  put  into  your 
mouth.  Did  you  see  Mr.  Haverley?  Were  the  Drane 
women  still  there?  How  were  they  all  getting  on 
together  ?  " 

Phoebe's  eyes  sparkled,  and  her  voice  took  in  a  Kttle 
shrillness. 

"  I  was  goin'  to  git  the  minister  to  write  you  a  letter 
'bout  that.  Miss  Panney,"  said  she ;  "  but  you  didn't  tell 
me  whar  you  was  goin',  nor  give  me  no  money  for 
stamps  nor  nothin'.  But  I  kin  say  to  you  now  that  that 
woman,  which  some  people  may  call  a  cook,  but  I  don't, 
she  told  me,  without  my  askin'  a  word  'bout  nothin', 
that  Mr.  Hav'ley  an'  that  little  Miss  Drane  was  to  be 
married  in  the  fall,  an'  that  they  was  goin'  away  all  of 
them  to  the  wife's  mother's  to  live,  bein'  that  that  old 


ANGRY  WAVES  367 

farm  out  thar  didn't  pay  to  run,  an'  never  would.  I 
reckoned  they'd  git  sick  of  it  afore  this,  which  I  always 
said." 

"  Phoebe ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Panney,  "  I  do  not  believe 
a  word  of  all  that !  How  dare  you  tell  me  such  a  lot  of 
lies?"  

Phoebe  was  getting  very  angry,  though  she  did  not 
dare  to  show  it ;  but  instead  of  taking  back  anything  she 
had  said,  she  put  on  more  lie-power. 

"  You  may  believe  me.  Miss  Panney,  or  you  needn't ; 
that's  just  as  you  choose,"  she  said ;  "  but  I  can  tell  you 
more  than  I  have  told  you,  and  that  is,  that  from  what 
I've  seen  and  heard,  I  believe  Mr.  Hav'ley  an'  Miss 
Drane  is  married  already,  an'  that  they  was  only  waitin' 
for  the  Tolbridges  to  come  home  to  send  out  the  cards." 

Miss  Panney  glared  at  the  woman.  "  1  tell  you  what  I 
believe,  and  that  is  that  you  never  went  to  Cobhurst  at  all. 
You  must  tell  me  something,  and  you  are  making  up  the 
biggest  story  you  can,"  and  with  this  she  marched  away. 

"  I  reckon  the  next  time  she  sends  me  on  an  arrand," 
thought  Phoebe,  whose  face  would  have  been  very  red  if 
her  natural  color  had  not  interfered  with  the  exhibition 
of  such  a  hue,  "she'll  send  me  in  a  hack,  and  pay  me 
somethin'  for  my  time.  I  was  bound  to  tell  her  'zactly 
what  she  didn't  want  to  hear,  an'  I  reckon  I  done  it,  an' 
more'n  that  if  she  gets  her  back  up  'bout  this,  an'  goes 
out  to  Cobhurst,  that  old  cook'll  find  herself  in  hot 
water.  It  was  mighty  plain  that  she  was  dreadful 
skeered  for  fear  anybody  would  think  thar  was  somethin* 
goin'  on  'twixt  them  two." 


368  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

If  Phoebe  had  been  more  moderate  in  her  double- 
headed  treachery,  Miss  Panney  might  have  been  much 
disturbed  by  her  news,  but  the  story  she  had  heard  was 
so  preposterous  that  she  really  believed  that  the  lazy 
colored  woman  had  not  gone  to  Cobhurst,  and  by  the 
time  she  reached  the  Bannister  house  her  mind  was 
cleared  for  the  reception  of  fresh  impressions. 

She  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  Dora  alone,  and  as 
soon  as  it  was  prudent  she  asked  her  what  news  she  had 
heard  from  Cobhurst.  Dora  was  looking  her  loveliest 
in  an  early  autumn  costume,  and  answered  that  she  had 
heard  nothing  at  all,  which  sui;prised  Miss  Panney  very 
much,  for  she  had  expected  that  Miriam  would  have 
been  to  see  Dora  before  this  time. 

"Common  politeness  would  dictate  that,"  said  Miss 
Panney,  "  but  I  expect  that  that  child  is  so  elated  and 
excited  by  getting  back  to  the  head  of  her  household 
that  everything  else  has  slipped  out  of  her  mind.  But  if 
you  two  are  such  close  friends,  I  don't  think  you  ought 
to  mind  that  sort  of  thing.  If  I  were  you,  I  would  go 
out  and  see  her.     Eccentric  people  must  be  humored." 

"They  needn't  expect  that  from  me,"  said  Dora,  a 
little  sharply.  "If  Miriam  lived  there  by  herself,  I 
might  go ;  but  as  it  is,  I  shall  not.  It  is  their  duty  to 
come  here,  and  I  shall  not  go  there  until  they  do." 

Miss  Panney  drummed  upon  the  table,  but  otherwise 
did  not  show  her  impatience. 

"  We  can  never  live  the  life  we  ought  in  this  world, 
my  dear,"  she  said,  "if  we  allow  our  sensitive  fancies 
to  interfere  with  the  advancement  of  our  interests." 


ANGRY  WAVES  369 

"Miss  Panney,"  cried  Dora,  sitting  upright  in  her 
chair,  "do  you  mean  that  I  ought  to  go  out  there, 
and  try  to  catch  Ralph.  Haverley,  no  matter  how  they 
treat  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Panney,  leaning  back  in  her  chair, 
"  that  is  exactly  what  I  mean.  There  is  no  use  of  our 
mincing  matters,  and  as  I  hold  that  it  is  the  duty  of 
every  young  woman  to  get  herself  well  married,  I  think 
it  is  your  duty  to  marry  Mr.  Haverley  if  you  can.  You 
will  never  meet  a  man  better  suited  to  you,  and  who 
can  use  your  money  with  as  much  advantage  to  your- 
self. I  do  not  mean  that  you  should  go  and  make  love 
to  him,  or  anything  of  that  sort.  I  simply  mean  that  you 
should  allow  him  to  expose  himself  to  your  influences." 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind ! "  cried  Dora,  her 
face  in  a  flush ;  "  if  he  wants  that  sort  of  exposure,  let 
him  come  here.  I  don't  know  whether  I  want  him  to 
come  or  not.  I  am  too  young  to  be  thinking  of  marrying 
anybody,  and  though  I  don't  want  to  be  disrespectful 
to  you.  Miss  Panney,  I  will  say  that  I  am  getting 
dreadfully  tired  of  your  continual  harping  about  Ralph 
Haverley,  and  trying  to  make  me  push  myself  in  front 
of  him  so  that  his  lordship  may  look  at  me.  If  he  had 
been  at  Barport,  or  there  had  been  any  chance  of  his 
coming  there,  I  should  have  suspected  that  you  went 
there  for  the  express  purpose  of  keeping  us  up  to  the 
work  of  becoming  attached  to  each  other.  And  I  say 
plainly  that  I  shall  have  no  more  to  do  with  exerting 
influence  on  him,  through  his  sister  or  in  any  other 
way.  There  are  thousands  of  other  men  just  as  good 
2b 


370  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

as  he  is,  and  if  I  have  not  met  any  of  them  yet,  I  have 
no  doubt  I  shall  do  so." 

"Dora,"  said  Miss  Panney,  speaking  very  gently,  "you 
are  wrong  when  you  say  that  there  was  no  chance  of 
Ralph's  coming  to  Barport.  If  some  things  had  not 
gone  wrong,  I  have  reason  to  believe  he  would  have 
been  there  before  you  left,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that 
if  you  had  stayed  there  until  now,  you  would  have  been 
walking  on  the  sands  with  him  at  this  minute." 

Dora  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  and  the  flush  on  her 
face  subsided  a  little. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked.  "You  do  not 
think  he  would  have  gone  there  on  my  account  ? " 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Miss  Panney.  "That  is  exactly 
what  I  mean;  and  now,  my  dear  Dora,  do  not  let  — " 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Bannister  walked  into  the  room, 
and  was  very  glad  to  see  Miss  Panney,  and  to  know 
that  she  had  returned  in  safety  from  the  seashore. 

When  Dora  went  up  to  her  room,  after  the  visitor 
had  gone,  she  shut  the  door  and  sat  down  to  think. 

"After  all,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I  do  not  believe 
much  in  the  thousand  other  men.  Not  one  of  them  is 
here,  and  none  may  ever  come,  and  if  Ralph  really  did 
intend  to  come  to  me  at  the  seashore,  I  wish  we  had 
stayed  there.  It  is  such  a  good  place  to  find  out  just 
how  people  feel." 

In  this  frame  of  mind  she  sat  and  thought  and  thought, 
until  a  servant,  who  had  been  to  the  post-office,  came  up 
and  brought  her  a  note  from  Miriam  Haverley. 

The  next  morning  Dora  Bannister,  in  an  open  carriage. 


ANGRY  WAVES  371 

drawn  by  the  family  bays,  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
Witton  mansion.  Miss^anney,  with  overshoes  on  and 
a  little  shawl  about  her,  for  the  mornings  were  beginning 
to  be  cool,  was  walking  up  and  down  between  two  rows 
of  old-fashioned  boxwood  bushes.  She  hurried  forward, 
for  she  knew  very  well  that  Dora  had  not  come  to  call 
on  the  Wittons. 

"Miss  Panney,"  said  the  young  lady,  "I  am  on  my 
way  to  Cobhurst,  and  I  thought  you  might  like  to  go 
there ;  and  so  if  you  choose,  I  shall  be  glad  to  take  you 
with  me." 

"Now,  my  dear  girl,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "you  are  a 
trump.  I  always  thought  you  were,  but  I  will  not  say 
anything  more  about  that.  I  shall  be  delighted  to  go 
with  you,  and  we  can  talk  on  the  way.  If  you  will 
come  in  or  take  a  seat  on  the  piazza,  I  shall  be  ready 
in  five  minutes." 

As  Miss  Panney  busied  herself  preparing  for  the  drive 
and  the  call,  her  mind  was  a  great  deal  more  active  than 
her  rapid  fingers.  She  had  been  intending  to  go  to  Cob- 
hurst, but  did  not  wish  to  do  so  until  she  had  decided 
what  she  should  say  to  Ealph  about  the  telegram  she  had 
sent  him.  Until  that  morning,  this  had  given  her  very 
little  concern,  but  as  the  time  approached  when  it  would 
be  absolutely  necessary  to  speak  upon  the  subject,  she 
found  that  she  was  a  good  deal  concerned  about  it.  She 
saw  that  it  was  very  important  that  nothing  should  be 
said  to  rouse  Ralph  into  opposition. 

But  now  everything  seemed  bright  and  clear  before 
her.    After  Dora,  looking  perfectly  lovely,  as  she  did 


372  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

this  morning,  had  shone  upon  Ealph  for  half  an  hour, 
or  even  less,  the  old  lady  felt  that  if  the  young  man 
asked  her  any  questions  about  her  telegram  she  would 
not  in  the  least  mind  telling  him  how  she  came  to  send 
it,  giving  him,  of  course,  a  version  of  her  motive  which 
would  make  him  understand  her  anxious  solicitude,  in 
case  anything  had  happened  to  any  one  dear  to  him,  that 
his  arrival  should  not  be  delayed  an  instant,  as  well  as 
the  sympathetic  delight  she  would  have  felt  in  witness- 
ing the  joy  his  presence  in  Barport  would  cause  to  the 
dear  ones,  alive  and  well. 

This  somewhat  complicated  explanation  might  need 
policy  and  alteration,  but  Miss  Panney  now  felt  quite 
ready  for  anything  Ralph  might  ask  about  the  telegram. 
If  any  one  else  asked  any  questions,  she  would  answer 
as  happened  to  please  her. 

As  they  drove  away  Miss  Panney  immediately  began 
to  congratulate  Dora  on  her  return  to  her  senses.  She 
was  in  high  good  humor :  "  You  ought  to  know,  my  dear, 
that  if  the  loveliest  woman  in  the  world  found  herself 
stuck  in  a  quagmire,  it  would  be  quite  foolish  for  her  to 
expect  that  the  right  sort  of  man  would  come  and  pull  her 
out.  In  all  probability  it  would  be  precisely  the  wrong 
sort  of  man  who  would  do  it.  Consequently  it  would  be 
wise  in  her  if  she  saw  the  right  sort  of  man  going  by, 
not  only  to  let  him  know  that  she  was  there,  but  to  let 
him  understand  that  she  was  worth  pulling  out.  All 
women  are  born  in  a  quagmire,  and  some  are  so  anxious 
to  get  out  that  they  take  the  first  hand  that  is  stretched 
toward  them,  and  some,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  never  get  out 


ANGRY  WAVES  373 

at  all.  But  they  are  the  wise  ones  who  do  not  leave  it 
to  chance,  who  shall  be  their  liberators.  Number  your- 
self, my  dear,  among  this  happy  class.  I  am  so  glad  it 
is  cool  enough  this  morning  for  you  to  wear  that  lovely 
costume.  It  is  as  likely  as  not  that  by  to-morrow  it  will  be 
too  warm.  All  these  little  things  tell,  my  child,  and  I  am 
glad  to  know  that  even  the  thermometer  is  your  friend." 

"I  had  a  letter  from  Miriam  yesterday  afternoon," 
said  Dora,  "in  which  she  told  me  that  her  brother 
Kalph  is  engaged  to  Miss  Drane." 

Miss  Panney  turned  around  like  a  weather-vane  struck 
by  a  squall.  She  seized  the  girl's  arm  with  her  bony 
fingers. 

"  What ! "  she  exclaimed. 

Ordinarily,  the  pain  of  the  old  lady's  grasp  would 
have  made  Dora  wince,  but  she  did  not  seem  to  feel 
it.  Without  the  slightest  sign  of  emotion  in  her  face, 
she  answered, — 

"  It  is  so.     It  happened  while  I  was  at  Barport." 

"  Stop !  "  cried  Miss  Panney,  in  a  voice  that  made  the 
driver  pull  up  his  horses  with  a  jerk.  In  a  moment  she 
had  stepped  from  the  low  carriage  to  the  ground,  and 
with  quick  strides  was  walking  back  to  the  Witton 
house.  Dora  turned  in  the  seat,  looked  after  her,  and 
laughed.  It  was  a  sudden,  bitter  laugh,  which  the  cir- 
cumstances made  derisive. 

Never  before  had  Miss  Panney's  soul  been  so  stung, 
burned,  and  lacerated,  all  at  once,  as  by  this  laugh.  But 
the  sound  had  scarcely  left  Dora  Bannister's  lips  when 
she  bounded  out  of  the  carriage  and  ran  after  the  old 


374  THE  GIRL   AT   C0BHUR8T 

lady.  Throwing  her  arms  around  her  neck,  she  kissed 
her  on  the  cheek. 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry  I  did  that,"  she  said,  "  and  I  beg 
your  pardon.  I  don't  mind  the  thing  a  bit,  and  won't 
you  let  me  take  you  home  in  the  carriage?" 

Dora  might  as  well  have  embraced  a  milestone  and 
talked  to  it ;  for  the  moment  she  could  release  herself, 
Miss  Panney  stalked  away  without  a  word. 

When  she  was  again  driving  toward  Cobhurst,  Dora 
took  from  the  front  of  the  carriage  a  little  hand-mirror, 
and  carefully  arranged  her  hat,  her  feathers,  her  laces 
and  ribbons.  Then  having  satisfied  herself  that  her 
features  were  in  perfect  order,  she  put  back  her  glass. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  let  any  of  them  see,"  she  said, 
"that  I  mind  it  in  the  least." 


CHAPTER  XLI 

PANNEYOPATHY   AND    THE   ASH-HOLE 

Neither  Ralph  nor  his  sister  nor  either  of  the  Drane 
ladies  had  the  least  reason  to  believe  that  Dora  minded 
the  news  contained  in  Miriam's  note,  except  that  it  had 
given  her  a  heartfelt  delight  and  joy,  and  that  it  had 
made  her  unable  to  wait  a  single  moment  longer  than 
was  necessary  to  come  and  tell  them  all  how  earnestly 
she  congratulated  them,  and  what  a  capital  good  thing 
she  thought  it  was.  She  caught  Ralph  by  himself  and 
spoke  to  him  so  much  like  a  sympathetic   sister  that 


PANNEYOPATHY  AND  THE  ASH-HOLB  375 

he  was  a  little,  just  the  least  little  bit  in  the  world, 
pained. 

As  Cicely  had  never  had  any  objection  to  Miss  Ban- 
nister, excepting  her  frequent  appearances  in  Ealph^s 
conversation,  she  received  Dora's  felicitations  with  the 
same  cordiality  that  she  saw  in  her  lovely  eyes  and  on 
her  lips.  And  Mrs.  Drane  thought  that  if  this  girl  were 
a  sample  of  the  Haverleys'  friends  and  neighbors,  her 
daughter's  lot  would  be  even  more  pleasant  than  she 
had  supposed  it  would  be.  As  for  Miriam,  she  and  Dora 
walked  together,  their  arms  around  each  other's  waists, 
up  and  down  in  the  garden,  and  back  and  forward  in 
the  orchard,  until  the  Bannister  coachman  went  to  sleep 
on  his  box. 

During  this  long  interview,  the  younger  girl  became 
impressed,  not  only  with  the  fact  that  Dora  thought  so 
well  of  the  match,  that,  if  she  had  been  looking  for  a 
wife  for  Ralph,  she  certainly  would  have  selected  Miss 
Drane,  but  with  the  stability  of  Miss  Bannister's  affec- 
tion for  her,  which  did  not  seem  to  be  affected  in  the 
least  by  the  changes  which  would  take  place  in  the  com- 
position of  the  Cobhurst  household.  Dora  had  said,  in- 
deed, that  she  had  no  doubt  that  she  and  Miriam  would 
be  more  intimate  than  ever,  because  Mr.  Haverley  would 
be  so  monopolized  by  his  wife. 

This  was  all  very  pleasant  to  Miriam,  but  it  did  not  in 
the  least  cause  her  to  regret  Ralph's  choice.  Dora  was 
a  lovely  girl,  but  it  was  now  plainer  than  ever  that  she 
was  also  a  very  superior  one,  whereas  Cicely  was  just 
like  other  people  and  did  not  pretend  to  be  anything 


376  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

more;  and,  moreover,  she  would  not  have  wished  her 
brother  to  marry  any  one  whose  idea  of  matrimony  was 
the  monopoly  of  her  husband,  and  she  knew  that  Cicely 
had  no  such  idea.  But  Dora  was  the  dearest  of  good 
friends,  Miriam  was  very  sure  of  that. 

The  Bannister  carriage  had  scarcely  left  the  Cobhurst 
gates  when  the  dog  Congo  came  bounding  after  it.  Dora 
looked  at  him  as  his  great  brown  eyes  were  turned  up 
towards  her,  and  his  tail  was  wagging  with  the  joy  of 
following  her  once  more ;  she  knew  that  his  training  was 
so  good  that  she  had  only  to  tell  him  to  go  back  and  he 
would  obey  her,  sorrowfully,  with  his  tail  hanging  down. 
He  was  Ralph's  dog  now,  and  she  ought  to  send  him 
back,  but  would  she?  She  looked  at  him  for  a  few 
moments,  considering  the  question,  and  then  she  said,  — 

"  Come,  Congo ; "  and  with  a  bound  he  was  in  the 
carriage  and  at  her  feet.  "  You  were  not  an  out  and  out 
gift,  poor  fellow,"  she  said,  stroking  his  head.  "I 
expected  you  to  be  partly  my  dog,  all  the  same,  and  now 
we  will  see  if  she  will  let  him  claim  you." 

The  dog  heard  all  this,  but  Dora  spoke  so  low,  the 
coachman  could  not  hear  it,  and  she  did  not  intend  that 
any  one  else  should  know  it  unless  the  dog  told. 

Ralph  did  not  miss  Congo  until  the  next  morning,  and 
then,  having  become  convinced  that  the  dog  must  have 
followed  the  Bannister  carriage,  he  expressed,  in  the 
presence  of  Cicely,  his  uncertainty  as  to  whether  it  would 
be  better  for  him  to  go  after  the  dog  himself,  or  to  send 
Mike. 

"  If  I  were  you,"  said  Miss  Cicely,  "  I  would  not  send 


PANNEYOPATHY   AND  THE  ASH-HOLE  377 

for  him  at  all.  If  Miss  Bannister  really  wants  to  get 
rid  of  him,  and  does  not  know  anybody  else  who  would 
take  him,  she  may  send  him  back  herself.  But  it  seems 
to  me  that  a  setter  is  not  the  best  sort  of  a  dog  for  a  farm 
like  this.  I  should  think  you  ought  to  have  a  big  mas- 
tiff, or  something  of  that  sort." 

"  It  is  a  great  pity,"  said  Ralph,  musingly,  "  that  he 
happened  to  be  unchained." 

"The  more  I  think  about  it,"  said  Cicely,  "the  less 
I  like  setters.  They  are  so  intimately  connected  with 
the  death  of  the  beautiful.  Did  you  ever  think  of 
that?" 

Ralph  never  had,  and  as  a  man  now  came  up  to  talk 
to  him  about  hay,  the  dog  and  everything  connected  with 
it  passed  out  of  his  mind. 

When  Miss  Panney  reached  home  after  her  abrupt 
parting  from  Dora  Bannister,  she  took  a  dose  of  the  last 
medicine  that  Dr.  Tolbridge  had  prescribed  for  her.  It 
was  against  her  rules  to  use  internal  medicines,  but  she 
made  exceptions  on  important  occasions,  and  as  this  was 
a  remedy  for  the  effects  of  anger,  she  had  taken  it  before 
and  she  took  it  now.  Then  she  went  to  bed  and  there 
she  stayed  until  three  o'clock  the  next  afternoon.  This 
greatly  disturbed  the  Wittons,  for  they  had  always 
believed  that  this  hearty  old  lady  would  not  be  carried 
off  by  any  disease,  but  when  her  time  had  come  would 
simply  take  to  her  bed  and  die  there,  after  the  manner 
of  elderly  animals. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Witton  came 
up  into  her  rognj.     She  did  not  do  this  often,  for  the  old 


378  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHUEST 

lady  had  always  made  everybody  in  the  house  understand 
that  this  room  was  her  castle,  and  when  any  one  was 
wanted  there,  he  or  she  would  be  summoned. 

"  You  must  be  feeling  very  badly,"  said  the  meek  and 
anxious  Mrs.  Witton ;  "  don't  you  think  it  would  be  bet- 
ter to  send  for  a  doctor  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  doctor,"  said  Miss  Panney,  shortly. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  the  other,  "  there  are  several  excellent 
doctors  in  Thorbury,  and  Dr.  Parker  takes  all  of  Dr.  Tol- 
bridge's  practice  while  he  is  away." 

"  Stuff !  "  remarked  Miss  Panney.  "  I  spanked  Dr. 
Parker,  when  he  wore  little  frocks,  for  running  his  tin 
wheelbarrow  against  me  so  that  I  nearly  fell  over  it." 

"  But  he  has  learned  a  great  deal  since  then,"  pleaded 
Mrs.  Witton ;  "  and  if  you  do  not  want  any  new  doctors, 
isn't  there  something  I  can  do  for  you  ?  If  you  will  tell 
me  how  you  feel,  it  may  be  that  some  sort  of  herb  tea — 
or  a  mustard  plaster  —  " 

"Gammon  and  spinach!"  cried  Miss  Panney,  throw- 
ing off  the  bedclothes  as  if  she  were  about  to  spring  into 
the  middle  of  the  floor.  "  I  want  no  teas  nor  plasters.  I 
have  had  as  much  sleep  as  I  care  for,  and  now  I  am  going 
to  get  up.  So  trot  downstairs,  if  you  please,  and  tell 
Margaret  to  bring  me  up  some  hot  water." 

For  an  hour  or  two  before  supper  time.  Miss  Panney 
occupied  herself  in  clearing  out  her  medicine-closet. 
Every  bottle,  jar,  vial,  box,  or  package  it  contained 
was  placed  upon  a  large  table  and  divided  into  two 
collections.  One  consisted  of  the  lotions  and  medicines 
prescribed  for  her  by  Dr.  Tolbridge;  and  the  other  of 


PANNBYOPATHY  AND   THE   ASH-HOLE  379 

those  she  herself,  in  the  course  of  many  years,  had 
ordered  or  compounded,  —  not  only  for  her  own  use, 
but  for  that  of  others.  She  had  long  prided  herself 
on  her  skill  in  this  sort  of  thing,  and  was  always  will- 
ing to  prepare  almost  any  sort  of  medicine  for  ailing 
people,  asking  nothing  in  payment  but  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  them  take  it. 

When  everything  had  been  examined  and  placed  on 
its  appropriate  end  of  the  table,  Miss  Panney  called 
for  an  empty  coal-scuttle,  into  which  she  tumbled,  with- 
out regard  to  spilling  or  breakage,  the  whole  mass  of 
medicaments  which  had  been  prepared  or  prescribed 
by  herself;  and  she  then  requested  the  servant  to  de- 
posit the  contents  of  the  scuttle  in  the  ash-hole. 

"After  this,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I  will  get  some- 
body else  to  do  my  concocting,"  and  she  carefully 
replaced  her  physician's  medicines  on  the  shelves. 

It  was  three  days  later  when  Miss  Panney  was  told 
that  Dr.  Tolbridge  was  in  the  parlor  and  wished  to 
see  her. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  lady,  as  she  entered  the  parlor, 
"I  supposed  that  after  your  last  call  here,  you  would 
not  come  again." 

"  Oh,  bless  my  soul ! "  said  the  doctor,  "  I  haven't 
any  time  to  consider  what  has  happened;  I  must  give 
my  whole  attention  to  what  is  happening  or  may  hap- 
pen. How  are  you  ?  and  how  have  you  been  during  my 
absence  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  had  medicines  enough,"  said  she,  "if  I  had 
needed  them;  but  I  didn't." 


380  THE   GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"Well,  I  wanted  to  see  for  myself,  and,  besides,  I 
was  obliged  to  come,"  said  the  doctor;  "I  want  to 
know  what  has  happened  since  we  left.  We  got  home 
late  last  night,  and  I  have  not  seen  anybody  who 
knows  anything." 

"And  so,"  said  the  old  lady,  "you  will  swallow  an 
insult  in  order  to  gratify  your  curiosity." 

"  Insult,  indeed !  "  said  he.  "  I  have  a  regular  rule 
about  insults.  When  anybody  under  thirty  insults  me, 
I  give  her  a  piece  of  my  mind  if  she  is  a  woman,  and 
a  taste  of  my  horsewhip  if  he  is  a  man.  But  between 
thirty  and  fifty,  I  am  very  careful  about  my  resent- 
ments, because  people  are  then  very  likely  to  be  cracked 
or  damaged  in  some  way  or  other,  either  in  body  or 
mind,  and  unless  I  am  very  cautious,  I  may  do  more 
injury  than  I  intend.  But  toward  folks  over  fifty, 
especially  when  they  are  old  friends,  I  have  no  resent- 
ments at  all.  I  simply  button  up  my  coat  and  turn  up 
my  collar,  and  let  the  storm  pelt;  and  when  it  is  fine 
weather  again,  I  generally  find  that  I  have  forgotten 
that  it  ever  rained." 

"And  when  a  person  is  in  the  neighborhood  of 
seventy-five,  I  suppose  you  thank  her  kindly  for  a  good 
slap  in  the  face." 

The  doctor  laughed  heartily. 

"Precisely,"  said  he.  "And  now  tell  me  what  has 
happened.  You  are  all  right,  I  see.  How  are  the  Cob- 
hurst  people  getting  on  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well  enough,"  said  Miss  Panney.  "  The  young 
man  and  that  Cicely  Drane  of  yours  have  agreed  to 


^ANNEYOPATHY  AKD  THE  ASH-HOLE  381 

marry  each  other;  and  I  suppose  the  old  lady  will 
live  with  them,  and  Miriam  will  have  to  get  down  from 
her  high  horse  and  agree  to  play  second  fiddle,  or  go 
to  school  again.     She  is  too  young  for  anything  else." 

The  doctor  stared.     "  You  amaze  me !  "  he  cried. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  be  amazed,"  said  Miss  Panney ;  "  I 
did  it ! " 

"  You  ?  "  said  the  doctor ;  "  I  thought  you  wanted  him 
to  marry  Dora." 

"If  you  thought  that,"  said  Miss  Panney,  flashing 
her  black  eyes  upon  him,  "why  did  you  lend  yourself 
to  such  an  underhanded  piece  of  business  as  the  send- 
ing of  that  Drane  girl  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  bless  my  soul !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  "  I  did 
not  lend  myself  to  anything.  I  did  not  send  her  there 
to  be  married.  Let  us  drop  that,  and  tell  me  how  you 
came  to  change  your  mind." 

"I  have  a  rule  about  dropping  things,"  said  the  old 
lady,  "and  with  people  of  vigorous  intellect,  I  never 
do  it;  but  when  any  one  is  getting  on  in  years  and  a 
little  soft-minded,  so  that  he  does  what  he  is  told  to 
do  without  being  able  to  see  the  consequences  of  it,  I 
pity  him  and  drop  the  subject  which  worries  his  con- 
science. I  have  not  changed  my  mind  in  the  least.  I 
still  think  that  Dora  would  be  the  best  wife  young 
Haverley  could  have;  and  after  I  found  that  you  had 
added  to  your  treacheries  or  stupidities,  or  whatever 
they  were,  by  carrying  her  off  to  Barport,  I  intended 
to  take  advantage  of  the  situation;  so  I  got  Dora  to 
invite  Miriam  there,  feeling  sure  that  the  Drane  women 


882  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

would  have  sense  enough  to  know  that  they  then  ought 
to  leave  Cobhurst ;  but  they  had  not  sense  enough,  and 
they  stayed  there.  Then  I  saw  that  the  situation  was 
critical,  and  went  to  Barport  myself,  and  sent  the  young 
man  a  telegram  that  would  have  aroused  the  heart  of 
a  feather-bed  and  made  it  be  with  me  in  three  hours, 
but  it  did  not  rouse  him  and  he  did  not  come;  and 
before  that  silly  Mrs.  Bannister  got  back  with  the  two 
girls,  the  mischief  was  done,  and  that  little  Drane  had 
taken  advantage  of  the  opportunity  I  had  given  her  to 
trap  Mr.  Ealph.  Oh,  she  is  a  sharp  one!  and  with 
you  and  me  to  help  her,  she  could  do  almost  anything. 
You  take  off  her  rival,  and  I  send  away  the  interfering 
sister;  and  all  she  has  to  do  is  to  snap  up  the  young 
man,  while  her  mother  and  that  illustrious  cook  of 
yours  stand  by  and  clap  their  hands.  But  I  do  not 
give  you  much  credit.  You  are  merely  an  inconsiderate 
blunderer,  to  say  no  more.  You  did  not  plan  anything ; 
I  did  that,  and  when  my  plans  don't  work  one  way, 
they  do  in  another.  This  one  was  like  a  boomerang 
that  did  not  hit  what  it  was  aimed  at,  but  came  bang- 
ing and  clattering  back  all  the  same.  And  now  I  will 
remark  that  I  have  given  up  that  sort  of  thing.  I  can 
throw  as  well  as  ever,  but  I  am  too  old  to  stand  the 
back-cracks.'' 

"  You  are  not  too  old  for  anything,"  said  the  doctor, 
"and  you  and  I  will  do  a  lot  of  planning  yet.  But 
tell  me  one  thing;  do  you  think  that  this  Haverley- 
Drane  combination  is  going  to  deprive  me  of  La 
Fleur?^' 


PANNEYOPATHY  AND   THE  ASH-HOLE  383 

"Upon  my  word!"  cried  the  old  lady,  springing  to 
her  feet,  "never  did  I  see  a  man  so  steeped  in  selfish- 
ness. Not  a  word  of  sympathy  for  me !  In  all  this  un- 
fortunate affair,  you  think  of  nothing  but  the  danger  of 
losing  your  cook!  Well,  I  am  happy  to  say  you  are 
going  to  lose  her.  Ihat  will  be  your  punishment,  and 
well  you  deserve  it.  She  will  no  more  think  of  staying 
with  you,  after  the  Dranes  set  up  housekeeping  at  Cob* 
hurst,  than  I  would  think  of  coming  to  cook  for  you. 
And  so  you  may  go  back  to  your  soggy  bread,  and  your 
greasy  fries,  and  your  dishwater  coffee,  and  get  yellow 
and  green  in  the  face,  thin  in  the  legs,  and  weak  in  the 
stomach,  and  have  good  reason  to  say  to  yourself  that  if 
you  had  let  Miss  Panney  alone,  and  let  her  work  out  that 
excellent  plan  she  had  confided  to  you,  you  would  have 
lived  to  a  healthy  old  age,  with  the  best  cook  in  this  part 
of  the  country  making  you  happy  three  times  a  day,  and 
satisfied  with  the  world  between  meals." 

"Deal  gently  with  the  erring,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  Don't  crush  me.  I  want  to  go  to  Cobhurst  this  morn- 
ing, to  see  them  all,  and  find  out  my  fate.  Wouldn't 
you  like  to  go  with  me  ?  I  have  a  visit  to  make,  two  or 
three  miles  above  here,  but  I  shall  be  back  soon,  and  will 
drive  you  over.     What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Very  good,"  said  Miss  Panney.  "  I  have  been  think- 
ing of  calling  on  the  happy  family." 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  had  departed  Miss  Panney 
ordered  her  phaeton. 

"I  intended  going  to  Cobhurst  to-day,"  she  said  to 
herself,  "  but  I  do  not  propose  to  go  with  him.     I  shall 


S84  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

get  there  first  and  see  how  the  land  lies,  before  he  comes 
to  muddle  up  things  with  his  sordid  anxieties  about  his 
future  victuals  and  drink." 


CHAPTER  XLII 

AN   INTERVIEWER 


The  roan  mare  travelled  well  that  morning,  and  Miss 
Panney  was  at  Cobhurst  before  the  doctor  reached  his 
patient's  house.  To  her  regret  she  found  that  Mrs. 
Drane  and  Miriam  had  driven  to  Thorbury.  Miss  Drane 
was  upstairs  at  her  work,  and  Mr.  Haverley  was  some- 
where on  the  place,  but  could  easily  be  found.  All  this 
she  learned  from  Mike,  whom  she  saw  outside. 

"  And  where  is  the  cook  ?  " 

"  She's  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Mike. 

"  A  good  place  for  her,"  replied  the  old  lady ;  "  let  her 
stay  there.  I  will  see  Mr.  Haverley,  and  I  will  see  him 
out  here.  Go  and  find  him  and  tell  him  I  am  sitting 
under  that  tree." 

Ralph  arrived,  bright-eyed. 

"  Well,  sir,"  cried  the  old  lady,  "  and  so  you  have  de- 
cided to  take  a  wife  to  yourself,  eh  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  have,"  said  he,  with  the  air  of  one  who  had 
conquered  a  continent,  and  giving  Miss  Panney's  out- 
stretched hand  a  hearty  shake. 

"  Sit  down  here,"  said  she,  "  and  tell  me  all  about  it. 
I  suppose  your  soul  is  hungering  for  congratulations." 


AN  INTERVIEWER  385 

"  Oil  yes,"  he  said,  laugliing ;  "  they  are  the  collateral 
delights  which  are  next  best  to  the  main  happiness." 

"  Now,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "  I  suppose  you  feel  quite 
certain  that  Miss  Drane  is  a  young  woman  who  will 
suit  your  temperament  and  your  general  intellectual 
needs  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  cried  Ralph.  "  She  suits  me  in  every 
possible  way." 

"  And  you  have  thoroughly  investigated  her  character, 
and  know  that  she  has  the  well-balanced  mind  which 
will  be  very  much  wanted  here,  and  that  she  has  cut  off 
and  swept  away  all  remnants  of  former  attachments  to 
other  young  men  ?  " 

Ralph  twisted  himself  around  impatiently. 

"One  moment,"  said  Miss  Panney,  raising  her  hand. 
"  And  you  are  quite  positive  that  she  would  have  been 
willing  to  marry  you  if  you  had  not  owned  this  big 
farm;  and  that  if  you  had  had  a  dozen  other  girls  to 
choose  from,  you  still  would  have  chosen  her ;  and  that 
you  really  think  such  a  small  person  will  appear  well  by 
the  side  of  a  tall  fellow  like  you ;  and  you  are  entirely 
convinced  that  you  will  never  look  around  on  other  men's 
wives  and  wish  that  your  wife  was  more  like  this  one  or 
that  one ;  and  that  —  " 

"  Miss  Panney  ! "  cried  Ralph,  "  do  you  suppose  there 
was  ever  a  man  in  the  world  who  thought  about  all  those 
things  when  he  really  loved  a  woman  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  she,  "  I  do  not  suppose  there  ever  was  one, 
and  it  was  in  the  hope  that  such  a  one  had  at  last  ap- 
peared on  earth  that  I  put  my  questions  to  you." 
2o 


386  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"  Well,  I  can  answer  them  all  in  a  bunch,"  said  he ; 
"  she  is  exactly  the  wife  I  want,  and  nobody  in  the  world 
would  suit  me  as  well.  And  if  there  is  any  one  who  does 
not  think  so  —  " 

"  Stop ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Panney ;  "  your  face  is  getting 
red.  Never  jump  over  a  wall  when  there  is  a  bottomless 
ditch  on  the  other  side.  You  might  miss  the  ditch,  but 
it  is  not  likely.  You  are  in  love,  and  when  people  are 
that  way,  the  straight  back  of  a  saw  is  parallel  to  every 
line  of  its  teeth.  Don't  quarrel,  and  I  will  go  on  with 
my  congratulations." 

"  Very  queer  ones  they  are  so  far,  I  am  sure,"  replied 
Ralph,  his  face  still  flushed  a  little. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Mi^s  Panney,  rising,  "  there  are  a  lot 
of  queer  things  in  this  world,  and  I  may  be  one  of  them. 
Now  I  will  go  and  see  your  young  lady.  I  do  not  know 
her  very  well  yet,  and  I  must  make  her  better  acquaint- 
ance." 

"Miss  Panney,"  said  Ralph,  quickly,  "if  you  are 
going  to  stir  her  up  with  questions  such  as  you  put  to 
me,  I  beg  you  will  not  see  her." 

"  Boy,  boy,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  don't  bubble  and  boil. 
I  have  a  great  regard  for  you,  and  care  a  great  deal  more 
for  you  than  I  do  for  her,  and  it  is  only  people  that  I 
care  a  great  deal  for  that  I  stir  up.  Go  back  to  your 
grindstone,  or  whatever  you  were  at  work  at,  and  do  not 
worry  your  mind  about  your  little  Cicely.  It  may  be 
that  I  shall  like  her  enough  to  wish  that  I  had  made  the 
match." 

When  Cicely  accidentally  met  Ralph  in  the  garden, 


AN  INTERVIEWER  887 

a  few  hours  later,  she  said  to  him  that  she  could  not  have 
imagined  that  Miss  Panney  was  such  a  dear  old  lady. 

"  Why,  Ralph/'  said  the  girl,  looking  up  at  him  with 
moistened  eyes,  "  she  talked  to  me  so  sweetly  and  gave 
me  such  good  advice  that  I  actually  cried.  And  never 
before,  dear  Ralph,  did  good  advice  make  me  feel  so 
happy  that  I  had  to  cry." 

And  at  this  point  the  two  wood  doves,  who  had  be- 
come regular  detectives,  actually  pecked  at  each  other 
in  their  despair  of  emulation. 

Miss  Panney's  interview  with  Cicely  had  not  been 
very  long,  because  the  old  lady  was  anxious  to  see  La 
Fleur  before  the  doctor  got  there,  and  she  went  down 
into  the  kitchen,  where,  although  she  did  not  know  it, 
the  cook  was  expecting  her.  La  Fleur's  soul  was  in  a 
state  of  turbulent  triumph,  but  her  expression  was  as 
soft  as  a  dish  of  jelly. 

Miss  Panney  sat  down  on  the  chair  offered  her,  while 
the  cook  remained  standing. 

"  I  came  down  to  ask  you,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  if  you 
have  heard  whether  Dr.  Tolbridge  and  his  wife  have 
returned.  I  suppose  you  will  be  going  back  to  them 
immediately." 

"Oh  no,"  said  La  Fleur,  her  eyes  humbly  directed 
toward  the  floor  as  she  spoke,  "  at  least  not  for  a  perma- 
nency. I  shall  get  the  doctor  a  good  cook.  I  shall 
make  it  my  business  to  see  that  she  is  a  person  fully 
capable  of  filling  the  position.  I  have  my  eyes  on  such 
a  one.  As  for  me,  I  shall  stay  here  with  my  dear  Miss 
Cicely." 


388  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

"Good  heavens,  woman!"  exclaimed  Miss  Panney, 
"your  Miss  Cicely  isn't  head  of  this  house.  What  do 
you  mean  by  talking  in  that  way?  Miss  Haverley  is 
mistress  of  this  establishment.  Haven't  you  sense 
enough  to  know  that  you  are  in  her  service,  and  that 
Miss  Drane  and  her  mother  are  merely  boarders  ?  " 

Not  a  quiver  or  a  shake  was  seen  on  the  surface  of  the 
gentle  jelly. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  La  Fleur,  with  her  head  on  one 
side,  and  her  smile  at  its  angle  of  humility,  "I  meant 
that  I  would  come  to  her  when  she  is  settled  here  as 
Mrs.  Haverley,  and  her  dear  mother  is  living  with  her, 
and  when  Miss  Miriam  has  gone  to  finish  her  education 
at  whatever  seminary  is  decided  on.  Then  this  house 
will  seem  like  my  true  home,  and  begging  your  pardon, 
madam,  you  cannot  imagine  how  happy  I  am  going  to 
be." 

"  You !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Panney.  "  What  earthly 
difference  does  it  make  to  anybody  whether  you  are 
happy  or  not  ?  " 

The  jelly  seemed  to  grow  softer  and  more  transparent. 

"I  am  only  a  cook,"  said  La  Meur,  "but  I  can  be 
as  happy  as  persons  of  the  highest  quality,  and  I 
understand  their  natures  very  well,  having  lived  with 
them.  And  words  cannot  tell  you,  madam,  how  it  glad- 
dens my  old  heart  to  think  that  I  had  so  much  to  do 
myself  with  the  good  fortunes  of  us  all,  for  the  Dranes 
and  me  are  a  happy  family  now,  and  I  hope  may  long  be 
so,  and  hold  together.  I  am  sure  I  did  everything  that 
my  humble  mind  could  conceive,  to  give  those  two  every 


AN  INTERVIEWER  389 

chance  of  being  together,  and  to  keep  other  people  away 
by  discussing  household  matters  whenever  needed ;  for  I 
had  made  up  my  mind  that  Miss  Cicely  and  Mr.  Haver- 
ley  were  born  for  each  other,  and  if  I  could  help  them 
get  each  other,  I  would  do  it.  When  your  telegram 
came,  madam,  it  disturbed  me,  for  I  saw  that  it  might 
spoil  everything,  by  taking  him  away  just  at  the  time 
when  they  had  nobody  but  each  other  for  company,  and 
when  he  was  beginning  to  forget  that  he  had  ever  been 
engaged  to  Miss  Bannister,  as  you  told  me  he  was, 
madam,  though  I  think  you  must  have  been  a  little  mis- 
taken, as  we  are  all  apt  to  be  through  thinking  that  things 
are  as  we  want  them  to  be.  But  I  couldn't  help  feeling 
thankful  that  nobody  but  me  was  home  when  the  tele- 
gram was  brought  without  any  envelope  on  it,  and  I  had 
no  chance  to  give  it  to  him  until  it  was  too  late  to  take  a 
train  that  night ;  for  the  trouble  the  poor  gentleman  was 
in  on  account  of  his  sister,  being  sure,  of  course,  that  some- 
thing had  happened  to  her,  put  him  into  such  a  doleful  way 
that  Miss  Cicely  gave  herself  up,  heart  and  soul,  to  com- 
fort him.  And  when  a  beautiful  young  woman  does  that 
for  a  young  man,  their  hearts  are  sure  to  run  together, 
like  two  eggs  broken  into  one  bowl.  Now  that's  exactly 
what  theirs  did  that  night,  for  being  so  anxious  about 
them  I  watched  them  and  kept  Mrs.  Drane  away.  The 
very  next  morning  when  I  asked  her  to  go  into  the 
garden  and  pick  some  lettuce,  and  then  told  him  where 
she  was,  he  offered  himself  and  was  accepted.  So  you 
see,  madam,  that  without  boasting,  or  exalting  myself 
above  others,  I  may  really  claim  that  I  made  this  match 


S90  THE   GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

that  I  set  my  heart  on.  Although,  to  be  sure  —  for  I 
don't  take  away  rightful  credit  from  anybody  —  some  of 
the  credit  is  yours  for  having  softened  up  their  hearts 
with  your  telegram,  just  at  the  very  moment  when  that 
sort  of  softening  could  be  of  the  most  use." 

Miss  Panney  sat  up  very  cold  and  severe. 

"  La  Fleur,"  said  she,  "  I  thought  you  were  a  cook  who 
prided  herself  on  attending  to  her  business.  Since  I 
have  been  sitting  here,  listening  to  your  twaddle,  the 
cat  has  been  making  herself  comfortable  in  that  pan  of 
bread  dough  that  you  set  by  the  fire  to  rise." 

La  Fleur  turned  around ;  her  impulse  was  to  seize  a 
poker  and  rush  at  the  cat.  But  she  stood  where  she  was 
and  infused  more  benignity  into  her  smile. 

"Poor  thing,"  said  she,  "she  doesn't  do  any  harm. 
There's  a  thick  towel  over  the  pan,  and  I  should  be 
ashamed  of  my  yeast  if  it  couldn't  lift  a  cat." 

When  Miss  Panney  went  upstairs  she  laughed.  She 
did  not  want  to  laugh,  but  she  could  not  help  it.  She 
had  scarcely  driven  out  of  the  gate  when  she  met  Dr. 
Tolbridge. 

"  A  pretty  trick  you  have  played  me ! "  he  cried. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  a  very  pretty  one,"  replied  the  old  lady, 
pulling  up  her  mare.  "  I  thought  you  knew  me  better 
than  to  think  that  I  would  come  here  to  look  into  this 
engagement  business  with  you  or  anybody  else.  Or  that 
I  would  let  you  get  ahead  of  me,  either.  Well,  I  have 
got  all  the  points  I  want,  and  more  too,  and  now  you  can 
go  along,  and  Mr.  Ealph  will  tell  you  that  he  is  the  hap- 
piest man  in  the  world,  and  your  secretary  will  tell  you 


THE   SIREN   AND  THE  IRON  891 

that  she  is  the  happiest  young  woman,  and  the  cook  you 
are  going  to  lose  will  vow  that  she  is  the  happiest  old 
woman,  and  if  you  stay  until  Mrs.  Drane  and  Miriam 
come  back,  the  one  will  tell  you  that  she  is  the  happiest 
middle-aged  woman,  and  the  other  that  she  is  the  happi- 
est girl,  and  if  you  give  Mike  a  half  dollar,  he  will  tell 
you  that  he  is  the  happiest  negro  in  the  world.  Click ! " 
The  doctor  went  on  to  Cobhurst,  where  Mrs.  Drane 
and  Miriam  soon  arrived,  and  he  heard  everything  that 
Miss  Panney  told  him  he  would  hear. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

THE    SIREN   AND   THE   IRON 

The  summer,  the  Dranes,  La  Fleur,  and  Miriam  had 
all  left  Cobhurst.  The  summer  had  gone  south  for  an 
eight  months'  stay;  the  Dranes  had  gone  to  their  old 
Pennsylvania  home  to  settle  up  their  affairs,  and  prepare 
for  the  marriage  of  the  younger  lady,  which  was  to  take 
place  early  in  the  coming  spring ;  La  Fleur  had  returned 
to  the  Tolbridges'  to  remain  until  the  new  Cobhurst 
household  should  be  organized ;  and  Miriam,  whose  asso- 
ciation with  Dora  and  Cicely  had  aroused  her  somewhat 
dormant  aspirations  in  an  educational  direction,  had 
gone  to  Mrs.  Stone's  school  for  the  winter  term. 

November  had  come  to  Cobhurst,  and  there  Ralph  re- 
mained to  get  his  farm  ready  for  the  winter,  and  his 
house  in  order  for  the  bride  who  would  come  with  the 


392  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

first  young  leaves.  He  did  not  regret  this  period  of  soli- 
tary bachelorhood,  for  not  having  very  much  money,  he 
required  a  good  deal  of  time  to  do  what  was  to  be  done. 

He  had  planned  a  good  deal  of  refitting  for  the  house, 
although  not  so  much  as  to  deprive  it  of  any  of  those 
characteristics  which  made  it  dear  old  Cobhurst.  And 
there  were  endless  things  to  do  on  the  farm,  the  most 
important  of  which,  in  his  eyes,  was  the  breaking  of  the 
pair  of  colts,  which  task  he  intended  to  take  into  his 
own  hands.  Mrs.  Browning  and  the  gig  were  very  well 
in  their  places,  but  something  more  would  be  needed 
whept  the  green  leaves  came. 

Seraphina,  Mike's  sister,  now  ruled  in  the  kitchen,  but 
Ralph's  thoughts  had  acquired  such  a  habit  of  leaving 
the  subject  on  which  he  was  engaged  and  flying  south- 
ward, that  even  when  he  took  a  meal  with  the  Tol- 
bridges,  which  happened  not  infrequently,  he  scarcely 
noticed  the  difference  between  their  table  and  his  own. 
Nothing  stronger  than  this  could  be  said  regarding  his 
present  power  of  abstracting  his  mind  from  surrounding 
circumstances. 

His  income  was  a  limited  one,  although  it  had  been  a 
good  deal  helped  by  the  products  of  his  farm,  and  he 
had  to  do  a  great  deal  of  calculating  with  his  pencil  be- 
fore he  dared  to  order  work  which  would  oblige  him  to 
draw  a  check  with  his  pen.  But  by  thus  giving  two 
dollars'  worth  of  thought  to  every  dollar  of  expenditure, 
he  made  his  money  go  a  long  way,  and  the  lively  and 
personal  interest  he  took  in  every  little  improvement, 
made  a  garden  fence  to  him  of  as  much  importance  and 


THE   SIREN  AND  THE  IRON  393 

satisfaction  as  a  new  post-office  would  have  been  to  the 
people  of  Thorbnry. 

One  day  he  went  into  a  hardware  store  of  the  town  to 
buy  some  nails,  and  there  he  met  Miss  Panney,  who  had 
just  purchased  a  corkscrew. 

"  A  thing  you  will  not  want  for  some  time,"  she  said, 
"  for  you  do  not  look  as  if  you  needed  anything  to  cheer 
your  soul.  Now  tell  me,  young  man,  is  it  really  the  en- 
gagement rapture  that  has  lasted  all  this  time  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Ealph,  laughing,  "  and  besides  that  I 
have  had  all  sorts  of  good  fortune.  For  instance,  one  of 
my  hens,  setting  unbeknown  to  anybody  in  a  warm  cor- 
ner of  the  barn,  has  hatched  out  a  dozen  little  chicks. 
Think  of  that  at  this  season!  I  have  put  them  in  a 
warm  room,  and  by  the  time  we  begin  housekeeping  we 
shall  have  spring  chickens  to  eat  before  anybody  else. 
And  then  there  is  that  black  colt,  Dom  Pedro.  I  had 
great  doubts  about  him,  because  he  showed  such  decided 
symptoms  of  free  will,  but  now  he  is  behaving  beauti- 
fully. He  has  become  thoroughly  reconciled  to  a  hay- 
cart.  I  have  driven  him  in  a  light  wagon  with  his  sis- 
ter, and  he  is  just  as  good  as  she  is,  and  yesterday  I 
drove  him  single,  and  find  that  he  has  made  up  his  mind 
to  learn  everything  I  can  teach  him.  '  Now  isn't  that  a 
fine  thing?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "  it  must  be  such  things 
as  those  that  make  your  eyes  sparkle !  But  of  course  it 
T^arms  your  heart  to  give  her  delicate  eating  when  she 
first  comes  to  you,  and  to  have  a  fine  pair  of  horses  for 
her  tp,  drive  l?$hind.     If  yo\ir  face  beams  a5  it  does,  nfiw^ 


394  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

while  she  is  away,  it  will  serve  as  an  electric  light  when 
she  comes  back.  Good  fortune !  Oh,  yes,  of  course,  you 
consider  that  you  have  it  in  full  measure.  But  we  are 
sometimes  apt  to  look  on  our  friends'  good  fortune  in  an 
odd  way.  Now,  if  I  had  wanted  you  to  go  to  Boston  to 
get  rich,  and  instead  of  that  you  had  insisted  on  going  to 
Nantucket,  and  had  become  rich  there,  I  suppose  that  I 
should  have  been  satisfied  as  long  as  you  were  prosper- 
ous, but  I  do  not  believe  I  would  have  been ;  at  least,  not 
entirely  so.  In  this  world  we  do  want  people  to  do  what 
we  think  they  ought  to  do." 

"  Yes,''  said  Ealph,  knowingly,  "  I  see.  But  now.  Miss 
Panney,  don't  you  really  think  that  Boston  would  have 
been  too  rich  a  place  for  me  ?  That  it  would  have  ex- 
pected too  much  of  me,  and  that  perhaps  it  would  have 
done  too  much  for  me  ?  Boston  is  a  good  enough  place, 
but  if  you  only  knew  how  much  lovelier  Nantucket 
is  —  " 

"  Stop,  stop,  boy ! "  said  the  old  lady.  "  I  am  getting 
so  old  now,  that  I  am  obliged  to  stop  happy  people  and 
disappointed  people  from  talking  to  me.  If  I  listened  to 
all  they  had  to  say,  I  should  have  no  time  for  anything 
else.  By  the  way,  have  you  heard  any  news  from  the 
Bannister  family  ?  That  sedate  Herbert  is  going  to  be 
married,  and  he  intends  to  live  with  his  wife  in  the 
Bannister  mansion." 

"  And  how  will  his  sister  like  that  ?  "  asked  Ralph. 

"  She  won't  like  it  at  all.  She  has  told  me  she  is  going 
away." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,"  he  said.     "  That  is  too  bad." 


THE  SIREN  AND  THE  IRON  395 

"  Not  at  all.  She  could  not  do  better.  A  girl  like  that 
in  a  town  such  as  Thorbury,  with  nobody  to  marry  her 
but  the  rector,  is  as  much  out  of  place  as  a  canary  bird  in 
a  poultry  yard.  I  have  advised  her  to  visit  her  relatives 
in  town,  and  go  with  them  to  Europe,  where  I  hope  she 
will  marry  a  prince.  Good  conscience !  Look  at  her ! 
Imagine  that  girl  in  a  sweeping  velvet  robe  with  one 
great  diamond  blazing  on  her  breast." 

Ralph  turned  quickly,  and  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  Dora, 
as  she  entered  the  store,  it  struck  him  that  no  royal 
gowns  could  make  her  more  beautiful  than  she  was  at 
that  moment. 

"Now,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Panney,  "what  did  you 
come  here  for  ?    Do  you  want  a  saw  or  a  pitchfork  ?  " 

"  I  came,"  said  Dora,  with  her  most  charming  smile, 
"  because  I  saw  you  two  in  here,  and  I  wanted  to  speak 
to  you.  It  is  a  funny  place  for  this  sort  of  thing,  but  I 
do  not  see  either  of  you  very  often,  now,  and  I  thought  I 
would  like  to  tell  you,  before  you  heard  it  from  any  one 
else,  of  my  engagement." 

"  To  whom  ?  "  cried  Miss  Panney,  in  a  voice  that  made 
the  ox-chains  rattle. 

Dora  looked  around  anxiously,  but  there  was  no  one  in 
the  front  part  of  the  store. 

"  To  Mr.  Ames,"  she  replied. 

"  The  rector ! "  exclaimed  Ralph. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dora ;  "  I  want  to  write  to  Miriam  about 
it,  and  do  you  know  I  have  lost  her  address." 

"  Dora  Bannister,"  interrupted  Miss  Panney,  "  it  may 
be  a  little  early  to  make  bridal  presents,  but  I  want  to 


396  THE  GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

give  you  this  corkscrew.  It  is  a  very  good  one,  and  I 
think  that  after  a  while  you  will  have  need  of  it.  Good 
morning." 

When  the  old  lady  had  abruptly  departed,  the  two 
young  people  laughed,  and  Ealph  offered  his  congratula- 
tions. 

"I  do  not  know  Mr.  Ames  very  well,"  he  said,  "but  I 
have  heard  no  end  of  good  of  him.  But  this  is  very  sur- 
prising.    It  seems  —  " 

"  Seems  what  ?  "  asked  Dora. 

"  Well,  since  you  ask  me,"  Kalph  answered,  hesitating 
a  little,  "it  seems  odd,  not,  perhaps,  that  you  should 
marry  the  rector,  but  that  you  should  marry  anybody. 
You  appear  to  me  too  young  to  marry." 

"  Oh,  indeed ! "  said  Dora ;  "  you  think  that  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  that  you  understand  me,"  said  Ealph, 
"  but  I  mean  that  you  are  so  full  of  youth  —  and  all  that, 
and  enjoy  life  so  much,  that  it  is  a  pity  that  you  should 
not  have  more  of  youthful  enjoyment  before  you  begin 
any  other  kind." 

Dora  laughed. 

"Truly,"  said  she,  "I  never  looked  at  the  matter  in 
that  light.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  done  so.  You 
think  me  too  young,  and  if  you  had  had  a  chance,  per- 
haps you  would  have  warned  me !  You  are  so  kind  and 
so  considerate,  but  don't  you  think  you  ought  to  speak  to 
Mr.  Ames  about  it  ?  He  does  not  know  you  very  well, 
but  he  has  heard  no  end  of  good  of  you,  and  perhaps 
what  you  say  might  make  him  reflect." 

As  she  spoke  she  looked  at  him  with  her  eyes  noij. 


THE  SIREN  AND  THE  IRON  397 

quite  so  wide  open  as  usual.  Ealph  returned  her  gaze 
steadfastly. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  of,"  he  said.  "  You 
are  thinking  of  a  fable  with  an  animal  in  it  and  some 
fruit,  and  the  animal  was  a  small  one,  and  the  fruit  was 
on  a  high  trellis." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  said  Dora.  "  It  must  be  very  nice  to  have 
read  as  much  as  you  have,  and  to  know  fables  and  all 
sorts  of  things  to  refer  to.  But  my  life  hasn't  been  long 
enough  for  all  that." 

The  more  Kalph's  mind  dwelt  upon  the  matter,  the 
more  dissatisfied  did  he  feel  that  this  beautiful  young 
creature  should  marry  the  rector.  If,  in  truth,  she  ap- 
plied the  fable  to  him,  this  was  all  the  more  reason  why 
he  should  feel  sorry  for  her.  If  anything  of  all  this 
showed  itself  in  his  eyes,  he  did  not  know  it,  but  Dora's 
eyes  opened  to  their  full  width,  and  grew  softer. 

"  I  expect  I  surprise  you,"  she  said,  "  by  talking  to  you 
of  these  things,  but  I  have  so  few  friends  to  confide  in. 
Herbert  is  wrapped  up  in  his  own  engagement,  and  Mrs. 
Bannister  is  entirely  apart  from  me.  Almost  ever  since 
I  have  known  you  two,  I  have  felt  that  Miriam  and  you 
were  friends  with  whom  I  could  talk  freely,  and  I  am 
now  going  to  tell  you,  and  I  know  you  will  never  men- 
tion it,  that  I  do  not  believe  I  shall  ever  marry  Mr. 
Ames." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Ealph.  "  Didn't  you  say  you 
were  engaged  to  him?" 

"  Of  course  I  said  so ;  and  I  am,  and  I  was  very  glad 
to  be  able  to  say  it  to  Miss  Panney,  for  she  is  always 


398  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHtTRST 

bothering  me  about  such,  things ;  but  the  engagement 
is  a  peculiar  one.  Mr.  Ames  has  been  coming  to  see  me 
for  a  long  time,  and  I  think  it  was  because  he  heard  that 
I  was  planning  to  go  away  that  he  decided  to  declare 
himself  at  once,  before  he  lost  his  opportunity.  I  told 
him  that  I  had  never  thought  of  anything  of  the  sort ; 
but  he  was  very  insistent,  and  at  last  I  consented,  pro- 
vided the  engagement  should  be  a  long  one,  and  that,  if 
after  I  had  seen  more  of  the  world  and  knew  myself 
better,  I  should  decide  to  change  my  mind,  I  must  be 
allowed  to  do  so.  He  fought  terribly  against  this,  but 
there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  agree,  and  so  now 
we  are  engaged  on  approbation,  as  it  were.  This  is  a 
great  relief  to  me  in  various  ways,  because  I  feel  as  if 
I  were  safely  anchored,  and  not  drifting  about  which- 
ever way  the  wind  blows,  while  other  people  are  sailing 
where  they  want  to ;  and  yet,  whenever  I  please,  I  can 
loosen  my  anchor,  and  spread  my  sails,  and  skim  away 
over  the  beautiful  sea." 

It  is  seldom  that  a  siren,  leaning  lightly  against  a 
bright  new  hay-cutter,  with  a  background  of  iron  rakes 
and  hoes  and  spades,  sings  her  soft  song.  But  it  was  so 
now,  and  Dora,  her  heart  beating  quickly,  looked  from 
under  her  long  lashes  to  note  the  effect  of  her  words. 

"  If  he  will  drop  the  little  Drane,"  she  said  to  herself, 
^'  I  will  drop  the  rector." 

But  Ealph  stood  looking  past  her.  It  was  as  plain  as 
could  be  that  he  was  not  approaching  the  rocks  ;  that  he 
did  not  like  the  song ;  and  that  he  was  thinking  what 
Ism  should  say  about  it. 


LA  FLEUK'S  soul  REVELS  399 

"  Oh,  dear,"  said  Dora,  suddenly  starting.  "  I  have 
ever  so  much  to  do  this  morning,  and  it  must  be  nearly 
noon.  I  wonder  what  made  that  queer  Miss  Panney 
think  of  giving  me  this  corkscrew." 

Ralph  knew  very  well  that  the  old  lady  meant  the 
little  implement  as  a  figurative  auxiliary  of  consolation, 
but  he  merely  remarked  that  Miss  Panney  did  and  gave 
very  queer  things.  He  opened  the  door  for  her,  and  she 
bade  him  good-by  and  went  out. 

She  crossed  the  street,  and  when  on  the  opposite  side- 
walk, she  turned  her  luminous  eyes  back  upon  the  glass 
doors  she  had  passed  through. 

But  there  was  no  one  looking  out  after  her.  Ralph 
was  standing  at  the  counter,  buying  nails. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 


LA   PLEUR'S   soul    REVELS,    AND    MISS    PANNEY   PREPARES 
TO   MAKE   A   FIRE 

CoBHURST  never  looked  more  lovely  than  in  the  early 
June  of  the  following  year.  With  the  beauty  of  the 
trees,  the  grass,  the  flowers,  the  vines,  and  all  things 
natural,  it  possessed  the  added  attractiveness  of  a  cer- 
tain personal  equation.  To  all  the  happy  dwellers 
therein,  the  dear  old  house  appeared  like  one  in  which 
good  people  had  always  lived.  Although  they  used 
to  think  that  it  was  as  charming  as  could  be,  they  now 
perceived  that  the  old  mansion  and  all  its  surroundings 


400  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

had  shown  strong  evidences  of  that  system  of  manage* 
ment  which  Mike  called  ramshackle.  No  one  said  a 
word  against  any  of  the  changes  that  Ealph  had  made, 
for  in  spite  of  them  Cobhurst  was  still  Cobhurst. 

On  a  bench  under  a  tree  by  the  side  of  the  house  sat 
La  Eleur,  shelling  some  early  spring  peas,  a  tin  basin  of 
which  she  held  in  her  lap.  Mrs.  Drane,  in  a  rustic  chair 
near  by,  was  sewing,  and  Miriam,  who  had  come  laden 
with  blossoms  from  the  orchard,  had  stopped  in  the 
pleasant  shade.  Mike,  absolutely  picturesque  in  a  broad 
new  straw  hat,  was  out  in  the  sunshine  raking  some 
grass  he  had  cut,  and  Seraphina,  who  remained  in  the 
household  as  general  assistant,  could  be  seen  through 
the  open  window  of  the  kitchen. 

"  As  I  told  you  before,  madam,"  said  La  Fleur,  "  I 
don't  think  you  need  feel  the  least  fear  about  the  young 
horses.  Their  master  has  a  steady  hand,  and  they  know 
his  voice,  and  as  for  Mrs.  Haverley,  she's  no  more  afraid 
of  them  than  if  they  were  two  sheep.  As  they  drove  off 
this  afternoon,  I  had  a  feeling  as  if  I  were  living  with 
some  of  those  great  families  in  the  old  country  in  whose 
service  I  have  been.  For,  said  I  to  myself,  ^  Here  is  the 
young  master  of  the  house,  actually  going  to  drive  out 
with  his  handsome  wife  and  his  spirited  horses,  and  that 
in  the  very  middle  of  the  working  day,  and  without  the 
prospect  of  making  a  penny  of  profit.'  You  don't  see 
that  often  in  this  country,  except,  perhaps,  among  the 
very,  very  rich  who  don't  have  to  work.  But  it  is  a 
good  sign  when  a  gentleman  like  Mr.  Haverley  sets  such 
an  upper-toned  example  to  his  fellow  young  men. 


LA  FLEUR'S  soul  REVELS         401 

"I  spoke  of  that  to  Dr.  Tolbridge  once.  *  Begging 
your  pardon,  sir/  said  I,  ^  it  seems  to  me  that  you  never 
drive  out  except  when  you  have  to.^  ^  Which  is  true/ 
said  he,  *  because  I  have  to  do  it  so  much.'  '  You  will 
excuse  me,  sir,  for  saying  so,*  said  I,  ^but  if  you  did 
things  for  pleasure  sometimes,  your  mind  would  be 
rested,  and  you  would  feel  more  like  comprehending  the 
deliciousness  of  some  of  my  special  dishes,  which  I 
notice  you  now  and  again  say  nothing  about,  because 
you  are  so  hungry  when  you  eat  them,  you  don't  notice 
their  savoriness.' '' 

"La  Fleur,"  said  Mrs.  Drane,  "I  am  surprised  that 
you  should  have  spoken  to  the  doctor  in  that  way." 

"Oh,  I  have  a  mind,"  said  La  Fleur,  "and  I  must 
speak  it.  My  mind  is  like  a  young  horse  —  if  I  don't 
use  it,  it  gets  out  of  condition ;  and  I  don't  fear  to  speak 
to  the  doctor.  He  has  brains,  and  he  knows  I  have 
brains,  and  he  understands  me.  He  said  something  like 
that  when  I  left  him,  and  I  am  sure  I  never  could  have 
had  a  night's  rest  since  if  I  hadn't  put  a  good  woman 
there  in  my  place.  With  what  Mary  Woodyard  knows 
already,  and  with  me  to  pop  in  on  her  whenever  I  can 
coax  Michael  to  drive  me  to  town,  the  doctor  should 
never  have  need  for  any  of  his  own  medicines,  so  far  as 
digestion  goes." 

"  Don't  you  think,"  interpolated  Miriam,  "  that  there 
is  a  great  deal  more  said  and  done  about  eating  than  the 
subject  is  worth  ?  " 

Mrs.  Drane  looked  a  little  anxiously  at  La  Fleur,  but 
the  cook  did  not  in  the  least  resent  the  remark. 
So 


4<>2  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHUKST 

"You  are  young  yet,  Miss  Miriam,"  slie  said;  "but 
when  you  are  older,  you  will  think  more  of  the  higher 
branches  of  education,  the  very  topmost  of  which  is 
cookery.  But  it^s  not  only  young  people,  but  a  good 
many  older  ones,  and  some  of  them  of  high  station,  too, 
who  think  that  cooking  is  not  a  fit  matter  for  the  intel- 
lect to  work  on.  When  I  lived  with  Lady  Hartleberry, 
she  said  over  and  over  to  my  lord,  and  me  too,  that  she 
objected  to  the  art  works  I  sent  up  to  the  table,  because 
she  said  that  the  human  soul  ought  to  have  something 
better  to  do  than  to  give  itself  up  to  the  preparation  of 
dishes  that  were  no  better  to  sustain  the  body  than  if 
they  had  been  as  plain  as  a  pike-staff.  But  I  didn't 
mind  her ;  and  everything  that  Tolati  or  La  Fleur  ever 
taught  me,  and  everything  I  invented  for  myself,  I  did 
in  that  house.  My  lady  was  an  awfully  serious  woman, 
and  very  particular  about  public  worship :  and  on  Sun- 
day morning  she  used  to  send  the  butler  around  to  every 
servant  with  a  little  book,  and  in  that  he  put  down  what 
church  each  one  was  going  to,  and  at  what  time  of  day 
they  would  go.  But  when  he  came  to  me,  I  always  said, 
*  La  Fleur  goes  to  church  when  she  likes  and  where  she 
chooses.'  And  the  butler,  being  a  man  of  brains,  set 
down  any  church  and  time  that  happened  to  suit  his 
fancy,  and  my  lady  was  never  the  wiser ;  and  if  I  felt 
like  going  to  church,  I  went,  and  if  I  didn't,  I  didn't. 
But  when  the  family  went  to  their  seat  in  Scotland,  they 
did  not  take  their  butler  with  them,  and  the  piper  was 
sent  round  on  Sunday  morning  to  find  out  about  the 
servants  going  to  church.    And  when  he  came  to  me,  I 


LA  FLBUR's   soul  REVELS  408 

said  the  same  thing  I  had  always  said,  and  do  you  know 
that  pink-headed  Scotchman  put  it  down  in  the  book 
and  carried  it  to  my  lady.  And  when  she  read  it,  she 
was  in  a  great  rage,  to  be  sure,  and  sent  for  me  and 
wanted  to  know  what  I  meant  by  such  a  message.  Then 
I  told  her  I  meant  no  offence  by  it,  and  that  I  didn^t 
think  the  idiot  would  put  it  down,  but  that  I  was  too  old 
to  change  my  ways,  and  that  if  her  ladyship  wasn't  will- 
ing that  I  should  keep  on  in  them,  she  would  have  to 
dismiss  me.  And  then  I  curtsied  and  left  her ;  and  my 
lord,  when  he  heard  of  it,  got  a  new  piper.  *  For,'  said 
he,  *a  fooPs  a  dangerous  thing  to  have  in  the  house,' 
and  T  stayed  on  two  years.  So  you  see.  Miss  Miriam, 
that  we  are  getting  to  the  point,  —  even  my  strait-laced 
lady  made  her  opinions  about  church-going  give  way 
before  high  art  in  her  cook.  For,  as  much  as  she  might 
say  against  my  creations  and  compositions,  she  had  got- 
ten so  used  to  'em,  she  couldn't  do  without  'em." 

"  Well,"  said  Miriam,  "  I  suppose  when  the  time  comes 
I  do  not  like  everything  as  I  do  now,  I  shall  care  more 
for  some  things.  But  I  mustn't  sit  here  j  I  must  go  up 
to  my  sewing." 

"Miriam!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Drane,  "what  on  earth 
are  you  working  at?  Shutting  yourself  up,  day  after 
day,  in  your  room,  and  at  hours,  too,  when  everything  is 
so  pleasant  outside.  Cannot  you  bring  out  here  what 
you  are  doing  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Miriam,  "because  it  is  a  secret;  but  it  is 
nearly  finished,  and  as  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  about  it 
very  soon,  I  may  as  well  do  it  now :  I  have  been  alter- 


404  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

ing  Judith  Pacewalk's  teaberry  gown  for  Cicely.  It 
was  altered  once  for  me,  and  that  makes  it  all  the 
harder  to  make  it  fit  her  now.  I  am  not  very  good  at 
that  sort  of  thing,  and  so  it  has  taken  me  a  long  time. 
I  expected  to  have  it  ready  for  her  when  she  came  back 
from  the  wedding  trip,  but  I  could  not  do  it.  I  shall 
finish  it  to-day,  however,  and  to-morrow  I  am  going  to 
invest  her  with  it.  She  is  now  the  head  of  the  house, 
and  it  is  she  who  should  wear  the  teaberry  gown.  Don't 
tell  her,  please,  until  to-morrow ;  I  thought  it  would  be 
nice  to  have  a  little  ceremony  about  it,  and  in  that  case 
I  shall  have  to  have  some  one  to  help  me." 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Drane, 
"  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  and  Cicely  and  your  brother 
will  be  delighted,  I  know,  to  find  out  what  you  think  of 
this  change  of  administration.  Ealph  said  to  me  the 
other  day  that  he  was  afraid  you  were  not  altogether 
happy  in  yielding  your  place  to  another.  He  had 
noticed  that  you  had  gotten  into  the  habit  of  going  off 
by  yourself." 

Miriam  laughed. 

"  Just  wait  until  he  hears  the  beautiful  speech  I  am 
going  to  make  to-morrow,  and  then  he  will  see  what  a 
wise  fellow  he  is." 

"Mrs.  Drane!  Miss  Miriam'!"  exclaimed  La  Meur, 
her  face  beginning  to  glow  with  emotion ;  "  let  me  help 
to  make  this  a  grand  occasion.  Let  me  get  up  a  beauti- 
ful lunch.  There  isn't  much  time,  it  is  true,  but  I  can 
do  it.  I'll  make  Michael  drive  me  to  town  early  in 
the  morning,  and  I'll  have  everything  ready  in  time. 


LA  FLEUR'S   soul  REVELS  405 

A  dinner  would  be  all  very  well,  but  a  luncheon  gives 
so  much  better  chance  to  the  imagination  and  the  in- 
tellect. There^re  some  things  you  have  to  have  at  a 
dinner,  but  at  a  lunch  there  is  nothing  you  are  obliged 
to  have,  and  nothing  you  may  not  have  if  you  want  it. 
And  if  you  don't  mind,  I'd  like  you  to  ask  old  Miss 
Panney.  I've  been  a  good  deal  at  odds  with  her  since 
I  have  known  her,  but  I'm  satisfied  now,  and  if  there 
is  anything  I  can  do  to  make  her  satisfied,  I'm  more 
than  ready.  Besides,  when  I  do  get  up  anything  extraor- 
dinary in  the  way  of  a  meal,  I  like  to  have  people  at 
the  table  who  can  appreciate  it.  And  as  for  that,  I 
haven't  met  anybody  in  this  country  who  is  as  well 
grounded  in  good  eating  as  that  old  lady  is." 

Her  proposition  gladly  agreed  to.  La  Fleur  rose  to  a 
high  heaven  of  excited  delight.  She  had  had  no  chance 
to  show  her  skill  in  a  wedding  breakfast,  for  the  young 
couple  had  been  married  very  quietly  in  Pennsylvania, 
and  she  was  now  elated  with  the  idea  of  exhibiting  her 
highest  abilities  in  an  Investiture  Luncheon. 

She  handed  the  basin  of  peas  through  the  open  window 
to  Seraphina,  and  retired  to  her  room,  to  study,  to  plan, 
and  to  revel  in  flights  of  epicurean  fancy. 

"  Mike,"  said  Seraphina  to  her  brother,  who  was  now 
raking  the  grass  near  the  kitchen  window,  "  did  you  hear 
dat  ar  ole  cook  a  talkin'  jes'  now  ?  "    * 

"  No,"  said  Mike,  "  I  hain't  got  no  time  to  harken  to 
people  talkin',  'cept  they're  talkin'  to  me,  an'  it  'pends 
on  who  they  is  whether  I  listens  then  or  not." 

**That  fool  thinks  she  made  this  world,"  said  Sera^ 


406  THE   GIRL  AT   COBHURST 

pMna.  "IVe  been  thinkin'  she  had  some  notion  like 
dat.     She  do  put  on  such  a'rs." 

"Git  out,"  said  Mike.  "You  never  heard  her  say- 
nothing  like  that." 

"  I  didn't  hear  all  she  said,"  replied  the  colored  woman, 
"  but  I  heard  more'n  'nough,  an'  I  heard  her  talkin'  about 
her  creation.  Her  creation  indeed!  I'll  let  her  know 
one  thing ;  she  didn't  make  me." 

"  Now  look  a  here,  Seraphiny,"  said  Mike ;  "  the  more 
you  shet  up  now,  now  you's  in  the  prime  of  life,  the 
gooder  you'll  feel  when  you  gits  old.  An'  so  long  as 
Mrs.  Flower  makes  them  thar  three-inch-deep  pies 
for  me,  I  don't  care  who  she  thinks  she  made,  an' 
who  she  thinks  she  didn't  make.  Thar  now,  that's  my 
opinion." 

.The  Investiture  Luncheon,  at  which  the  Tolbridges  and 
Miss  Panney  were  present,  was  truly  a  grand  and  beauti- 
ful affair,  to  which  Dora  would  certainly  have  been  in- 
vited had  she  not  been  absent  on  her  bridal  trip  with  Mr. 
Ames.  Seldom  had  La  Fleur  or  either  of  her  husbands 
prepared  for  prince,  ambassador,  or  titled  gourmand  a 
meal  which  better  satisfied  the  loftiest  outreaches  of  the 
soul  in  the  truest  interests  of  the  palate. 

Cicely  appeared  in  the  teaberry  gown,  and  if  the  spirit 
of  Judith  Pacewalk  hovered  o'er  the  scene,  and  allowed 
its  gaze  to  wander  from  the  charming  bride,  over  the 
happy  faces  of  the  rest  of  the  company,  to  the  half-open 
door  of  the  dining-room,  where  shone  the  radiant  face 
of  the  proudest  cook  in  the  world,  it  must  have  been  as 


LA  FLEUR'S  soul  REVELS         407 

well  satisfied  with  the  fate  of  the  pink  garment  as  it 
could  possibly  expect  to  be. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  luncheon  party 
broke  up,  and  although  Miss  Panney  was  the  last  guest 
to  leave,  she  did  not  go  home,  but  drove  herself  to  Thor- 
bury,  and  tied  her  roan  mare  in  front  of  the  office  of  Mr. 
Herbert  Bannister.  When  the  young  lawyer  looked  up 
and  perceived  his  visitor,  he  heaved  a  sigh,  for  he  had 
expected  in  a  few  moments  to  lock  up  his  desk,  and 
stop,  on  his  way  home,  at  the  house  of  his  lady  love. 
But  the  presence  of  Miss  Panney  at  his  office  meant 
business,  and  business  with  her  meant  a  protracted  ses- 
sion. Miss  Panney  did  not  notice  the  sigh,  and  if  she 
had,  it  would  not  have  affected  her.  Her  soul  had 
been  satisfied  this  day,  and  no  trifle  could  disturb  her 
serenity. 

"Now  what  I  want,"  said  she,  after  a  good  deal  of 
prefatory  remark,  "is  for  you  to  give  me  my  will.  I 
want  to  alter  it." 

"But,  madam,"  said  young  Bannister,  when  he  had 
heard  the  alterations  desired  by  Miss  Panney,  "is  not 
this  a  little  quixotic?  Excuse  me  for  saying  so.  Mr. 
Haverley  is  not  even  related  to  you,  and  you  are  bestow- 
ing upon  him  —  " 

"  Herbert  Bannister,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  if  you  were 
your  father  instead  of  yourself,  you  would  know  that 
this  young  man  ought  to  have  been  my  grandson.  He 
isn^t ;  but  I  choose  to  consider  him  as  such,  and  as  such 
I  shall  leave  him  what  will  make  him  a  worthy  lord  of 
Cobhurst.     Bring  me  the  new  will  as  soon  as  it  is  ready 


408  THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

and  bring  also  the  old  one,  with  all  the  papers  I  have 
given  you,  from  time  to  time,  regarding  the  disposition 
of  my  property.  I  shall  burn  them,  every  one,  and  al- 
though it  may  set  the  Wittons'  chimney  on  fire  the  con- 
flagration will  make  me  happy." 


THE  END 


Novels  and  Short  Stories  by 

FRANK  R.  STOCKTON 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  Publisheis,  New   York 


**I  kavt  hem  rtadinghim  nowago^d  many  years ^  with  an  mereasing piea$-  ) 

ure  which  his  constant  public  seems  to  share,  and  I  am  more  and  more  certain  I 

that  our  literature  does  not  know  a  more  original  or  originative  spirit.    Every-  \ 

thing  that  he  has  done  reveals  his  authority.    I  doubt  if  any  author  of  our  time  ^ 

stamps  his  personality  so  distinctly  on  his  work."  —  Wiluam  Dean  Howblls.  ! 


A  NEIV  LOyE  STORY 

THE  GIRL  AT  COBHURST 

i2mo.    $1.50. 

like  "Captain  Horn"  and  "The  Late  Mrs.  Null,"  this  novel  has  txjf 
appeared  serially,  and  the  ingenious  surprises  of  its  unfolding  plot  are  the 
fresher  for  this  reason.  Its  scene  is  a  little  country  village,  to  which  con»e 
the  hero  of  the  tale  and  his  sister ;  and  the  French  cook  (widow  of  an 
"artist")  and  the  crotchety,  match-making  old  maid,  whose  simultaneous 
endeavors  to  lead  the  hero's  affections  in  opposite  paths  produce  somt 
truly  Stocktonian  intricacies,  are  creations  which  could  have  come  from 
no  other  pen  than  the  author's.  As  Mr.  Howells  has  well  said,  "  Of  hi» 
kind  he  is  the  first  and  only." 

A  STORY  TELLER'S  PACK 

*/«  this  book  there  is  not  one  disappointment!' 
Illustrated.    i2mo.    $1.50. 

''Tura  where  we  will  in  these  admirably  written  tales,  we  find  cause  lor 
praise." — London  Literary  World. 

•*  Here  is  that  quizzical  vein  of  serious  humor,  that  droll  inventiveness  ol 
incident,  and  that  adroit  suggestion  of  character  which  are  prominent  charac- 
teristics of  Mr.  Stockton's  books."  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

"  His  gift  is  one  of  the  most  characteristic  which  has  yet  appeared  in  our 
literature.  The  fact  that  it  is  humorous  and  light  must  not  make  us  oblivious 
of  its  original  quality.  This  volume  is  handsomely  made,  with  numerous 
Illustrations  from  well-known  bands,  and  a  very  taking  cover,"  —  Tht  Outlooks 


NOVELS  AND  SHORT  STORIES  BY  FRANK  R.   STOCKTON 


"  Of  Mr.  Stockton's  stories  what  is  there  to  say  but  that  they  are  i 
universal  blessing  and  delight  ?  " 


Two  Companion  Novels  of  Adventure 

THE   ADVENTURES  OF  CAPTAIN   HORN 

"  //a  better  story  of  adventure  has  been  written  of  late,  I  want  to  know  tht 
name  of  it." 

i2mo.     $1.50. 

"  There  is  no  more  thoroughly  entertaining  writer  before  the  public  to-day  than  Mr. 
Stockton.     He  writes  to  amuse,  and  he  succeeds  admirably."  —  Boston  Globe. 

"  Mr.  Stockton  has  touched  the  high-water  mark  of  romantic  fiction  and  has  shown  his 
power  to  grasp  the  magic  of  Defoe  and  Stevenson."  —  London  Speaker. 

MRS.    CLIFFS  YACHT 

'*Mr.  Stockton  is  at  his  best  in  this  story  of  land  and  **«."— The  Indkfbndsnt. 

Illustrated.     i2mo.     $1.50. 

"  Those  who  remember '  The  Adventures  of  Captain  Horn,'  and  all  who  read  the  book 
will  remember  it,  have  reason  to  thank  Mr.  Frank  Stockton  that  he  has  not  left  them  in 
suspense  regarding  the  disposition  of  so  much  of  the  great  treasure  as  fell  to  the  share 
of  Mrs.  Cliff  and  of  the  Peruvian  Government.  '  Mrs.  Cliff's  Yacht'  is  the  title  of  this 
sequel,  and  the  wit  and  insight  into  human  nature  which  the  first  part  of  the  book  shows 
makes  a  happy  complement  to  the  stirring  adventure  which  occupies  the  last  part,  when 
the  fate  of  the  Peruvian  treasure  is  narrated."  —  Atlantic  Monthly. 


A  New  and  Cheaper  Edition  of  Two  Famous  Books. 

In  uniform  style,  illustrated  by  A.  B.  Frost.     Each  i2mo,  $1.50. 
POMONA'S  TRAVELS 

A  Series  of  Letters  to  the  Mistress  of  T{udder  Grange  from  her 
Former  Handmaiden 

"  An  attractive  reprint  is  '  Pomona's  Travels,'  by  Mr.  Frank  R.  Stockton,  whose  name 
alone  carries  a  laugh  with  it.  There  is  humor,  also,  in  the  delightful  pictures  by  A.  B. 
Frost,  which  have  almost  as  much  character  as  the  story.  The  cover  in  buff  and  green, 
relieved  with  a  touch  of  black,  is  very  attractive:  and  as  the  work  itself  is  one  of  the 
happiest  things  that  even  Mr.  Stockton's  fancy  has  conceived,  everything  makes  for  its 
success." —  The  Dial. 

RUDDER  GRANGE 

"  Of  all  Stockton's  inimitable  books  this  has  always  been  regarded  as  the  best."  — 
Boston  Transcript. 

"  A  most  attractive  new  edition  in  a  charming  binding.  .  .  .  Pomona  is  just  as  funny 
on  re-reading  as  on  first  acquaintance,  and  the  book  will  not  only  make  new  friends  in  its 
new  dress,  but  reclaim  old  ones  as  well."  -  The  Interior. 

"  If  there  is  any  one  who  has  never  read  Stockton's  '  Rudder  Grange,'  he  should  be 
advised  of  the  new  edition  of  that  inimitable  story  which  has  just  been  put  out,  and  those 
who  have  worn  out  their  old  copies  through  much  handling  will  also  be  lucky  to  take 
advantage  of  the  opportunity."  -  Chicago  Record. 


NOVELS  AND  SHORT  STORIES  BY  FRANK  R.  STOCKTON 


CONCERNING  MR.  STOCKTON'S  STORIES. 

"  Mr,  Stockton,  more,  perhaps,  than  any  recent  writer,  has  helped  to  define 
the  peculiar  virtues  of  the  short  story.  He  has  shown  how  possible  it  is  to  use 
surprise  as  an  effective  element,  and  to  make  the  turn  of  a  story  rather  than  the 
crisis  of  a  plot  account  for  everything.  It  may  be  said  in  general  that  Mr. 
Stockton  does  not  rely  often  upon  a  sudden  reversal  at  the  end  of  a  story  to  cap- 
ture the  reader,  but  gives  him  a  whimsey  or  caprice  to  enjoy ;  while  he  works 
out  the  details  in  a  succession  of  amusing  turns." — The  Atlantic  Monthly. 


New  Uniform  Edition  of  the  following  Volumes  : 

THE  WATCHMAKER'S  WIFE 

And  Other  Stories.     i2mo,  $1.25. 

"  His  stories  are  characterized  by  the  oddity  and  drollery  which  distinguish 
Mr.  Stockton's  from  that  of  the  ordinary  humorists." 

— Charleston  News  and  Courier* 

THE  LATE  MRS.  NULL 

l2mo,  $1.25. 

"We  can  assure  prospective  readers  that  their  only  regret  after  finishing  the 
book  will  be  that  never  again  can  they  hope  for  the  pleasure  of  reading  it  for  the 
first  time."— T'A*  Critic. 

RUDDER  GRANGE 

l2tno,  paper,  60  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.25. 

^  •*  Humor  like  this  is  perennial."— ^ajAm^^ow  Post. 

THE  RUDDER  GRANGERS  ABROAD 

And  Other  Stories.     i2mo,  paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.25. 

"  It  will  be  eagerly  sought  by  all  old  friends  of  Pomona  and  Jonas  and  the  other 
characters  who  nave  so  delighted  the  numberless  readers  of '  Rudder  Grange.'  " 

—  The  Outlook. 

THE  LADY,  OR  THE  TIGER? 

And  Other  Stories.     i2mo,  paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.25. 

"  His  unique  stories  always  hit  the  mark.  But '  The  Lady,  or  the  Tiger?*  was 
a  shaft  condensed  from  the  entire  Stocktonese."— C.?«/«»:y  Magazine, 

THE  CHRISTMAS  WRECK 

And  Other  Stories.     i2mo,  paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.25. 

"  With  the  charm  of  a  most  delicate  humor,  his  stories  become  irrosistibly  at- 
tractive. "—/%t7arf*//A»a  Tmus* 


NOVELS  AND  SHORT  STORIES  BY  FRANK  R.  STOCKTON 

THE  BEEMAN  OF  ORN 

And  Other  Fanciful  Tales.     i2mo,  $1.25. 

"  It  would  be  idle  to  describe  the  fanciful  humor  of  these  stories.    To  read  them 

is  simple  recreation." — London  Athenceum. 

AMOS   KILBRIGHT 

His  Adscititious  Experiences.     With  Other  Stories,      xsmo,  paper, 

50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.25. 

"  A  collection  of  inimitable  tales.    The  writer's  whimsical  humor  and  inventive 
genius  find  fitting  scope  in  the  title  sXoxyy— Boston  Commonwealth, 

ARDIS   CLAVERDEN 

l2mo,  $1.25. 
"A  very  pretty  story,  tender,  and  full  of  gentle  Yivna.ox.^'''— Philadelphia  Fms, 

\*  The  sett  '*»'*^  volumes ^  ismo^  $ii^o* 


Mr.  STOCKTON'S  Books  For  The  Young 

"  His  books  for  boys  and  girls  are  classics." — Newark  Advertiser. 

THE  CLOCKS  OF  RONDAINE,  and  Other  Stories.  With 
24  illustrations  by  Blashfield,  Rogers,  Beard,  and  others. 
Square  8vo,  $1.50. 

PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED.    Illustrated  by  Pennell,  Par. 

SONS,  and  others.     Square  8vo,  $2.00. 

THE  story  of  VITEAU.    Illustrated  by  R.  B.  Birch.    i2mo, 

$1.50. 

A  JOLLY  fellowship.    With  20  illustrations.     i2mo,  $1.50. 

THE    FLOATING   PRINCE   AND  OTHER    FAIRY   TALES. 

Illustrated.     Square  8vo,  $1.50. 

THE  TING-A-LING  TALES.    Illustrated.    i2mo,  $r.oo. 

ROUNDABOUT  RAMBLES  IN  LANDS  OF  FACT  AND 
FICTION.     Illustrated.     Square  Svo,  $1.50. 

TALES  OUT  OF  SCHOOL.  With  nearly  200  illustrations 
Square  Svo,  f  1.50. 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  153-157  Fifth  Amie,  Ntw  Yott 


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